


Saints Without A Cause

by hiiimaugust



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, Halsey (Musician), My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Clones, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gender Non-Conforming Character, I don't know how graphic the violence is but it seemed like a good idea to use the warning anyway, My own version of the Killjoy universe, Other, Rated for swearing, Religion, Self-Doubt, Spoliers in the tags, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiiimaugust/pseuds/hiiimaugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had her life planned down to smallest detail. They just needed survive. He just wanted to help people. Three young citizens of Battery City and the surrounding Zones are thrown head-first into the rebellion against the evils of Better Living Industries. The world isn't black and white and it's difficult to not pick a side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Beyond The End (Book One): The Rise And Fall Of Camp Youngblood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101853) by [Starora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starora/pseuds/Starora). 



> Welcome, one and all, to the Saints Without A Cause re-write. The momentum of writing this is a lot slower than the first time around but I'm trying to go for quality. POV order will eventually be Ruby/Pocket Pistol, Little Alien/Tanner, Bene/Holy Roller.
> 
> Today, I bring you Ruby's escape from the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W training centre. Also one handed Patrick Stump, because why not? And the Fab Four are going to stay dead in this version. Sorry, not sorry.

Ruby Graves felt off. She didn’t know what was wrong at first. She tried to focus on the course work in front of her but a feeling of dread was spreading from her stomach. Closing the book on her desk, she sighed. “What the hell, Graves?” she mumbled to herself. “Focus.”

An inability to focus on the bookwork related to her training was becoming more and more of a problem. She supposed it could be because they were hitting crunch time. Three weeks to graduation and placement. She wanted the best position possible, Urban Field Agent, Battery City. That had been her life plan from almost the beginning. Much to her parents’ dismay. Of course, one of them was dead and the other became irrelevant when she turned eighteen.

Maybe it was stress.

Ashley Frangipane, the other female S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W recruit in her year, came in. Ashley was out of breath. “Ruby!”

Ruby looked up. “Sparing with Recruit Ross again?”

“No. I haven’t seen George all day.” Ashley sunk onto Ruby’s bunk. “They killed the Fab Four.”

Ruby blinked a couple times. The information she had about the crew of rebel Killjoys flashed across her mind. “The Way brothers, Toro, and Iero. How did we get them? I know there was a run-in with them in Zone 2 the other day.”

“They came to us. I don’t know the details yet but they want to show the senior recruits the footage.” The older recruit looked over her shoulder. “Why do you still use print? You have a computer.”

“How long have you known me?”

“Four years. Graves, you’re going to have to catch up with technology.”

“Yes, well, not everyone was recruited for their technical abilities. Are they cancelling team building tomorrow in favour of a debriefing?” Ruby stood up.

Ashley nodded. “The younger recruits and future masks are getting tomorrow off. Those of us headed for Red Jackets are in for a treat, apparently.”

Ruby thought for a moment, then stood to return her book to the shelf. Her hands were shaking. “How many of ours died?”

“Eight.”

Ruby closed her eyes. “Two for every one of them, then.” She sighed. “Again.”

“It’s the job, Ruby. You knew it going in.”

The roommates slipped into silence. Since Ash was on Ruby’s bunk, Ruby remained at her desk. Ash was right. This was the job Ruby wanted, from the time she was six. She learned the laws of Battery City, purposefully answered her aptitude and interests tests to point toward law enforcement, and went against her mother’s wishes. In short, Ruby knew exactly what the risks were.

But over the past four years, she had realised S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W was incompetent as fuck. More agents and masks died than Killjoys and more Killjoys were killed than captured. The entire system had too many flaws. She used to trust it. Now, something felt wrong. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W wasn’t what her six year old self thought it was.

“Ruby, in my experience, that is your something is wrong face. Like that day in Zone 3.”

“It’s nothing, Ash.” Ruby’s stomach turned at the thought of the incident in Zone 3. It had been nearly six months. It had been a normal survival training exercise. A small band of Killjoys descended on the camp. It had been a chaotic firefight. No one died but Ruby severed a Killjoy’s hand with one lucky blaster shot. The DNA identified the abandoned limb as belonging to Patrick Stump, aka Benzedrine. Ruby had been praised for it. Ruby knew limb severing blaster shots were rarely fatal but it appeared that very few people at S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W did. Stump now had a large red DECEASED on his file—with Ruby/bleeding out listed as the responsible party. Never mind that there were no signs the man was dead.

The fact that mistake put her firmly at the top of the class made her sick.

“I know you passed your evaluation after but…”

“Don’t say it. I’m fine.” She returned the books to the shelf with just a bit too much force. “It’s been half a year. I did exactly what we’re trained to do, just a little ahead of schedule.”

Before Ashley could say anything else, the city-wide curfew warning played. “Unless you have the appropriate identification, please return to your homes or living quarters,” the nightly robotic voice ordered. “All non-essential power will be shut off in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Ruby said, grabbing a towel and a standard S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W issue sweat shirt. “What time is report tomorrow?”

“O’Ugly.”

“Oh, joy.”

* * *

It didn’t surprise Ruby that she was the last one in the classroom the following morning. She slid into the empty chair beside George Ross, another senior recruit. He looked as tired as she felt. “Cutting it a little close.”

“You know me. I sleep like lead.” She quickly pulled the rubber band off her wrist and made her massive head of curls into a neat braid.

Korse, head of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W daily operations, appeared just behind her. “I believe the phrase is ‘sleep the like the dead,’ Graves.”

“I know the idiom, sir, but it seemed inappropriate. I understand that we lost seven Masks and a Red Jacket yesterday.”

Korse looked surprised. “Who told you the numbers?”

“Frangipane, sir.”

“Frangipane.” His voice took an even harsher tone than usual. “Where did you get that information?”

“Agent Clay Anders.”

“Are you certain it was Anders, Frangipane?” Korse’s featured turned dark for a moment.

“Anders is rather distinctive, sir. I’m sure.”

Ruby watched. Everything, from how he was standing to the vibe in her gut told her something was more wrong than eight of his subordinates being dead. It only took her a few seconds to raise her hand. “Sir?

“What, Graves?”

 _It’s now or never._ “Is there a leak, sir, something internal?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your face, sir, when Frangipane mentioned Anders. Anders is in the Cyber Division.”

“You. You are far too clever for your own good.” Korse sighed. “What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room, am I understood?”

A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ answered him.

“Someone want to tell me who Blurryface and Space Cadet are?”

Ross’ hand went up. “The computer hackers holed up at Camp Youngblood. Allegedly Tyler Joseph, of Zone 1, and Joshua Dun, a Battery City defector. The ids aren’t positive yet.”

“We thought our new firewall would keep them out. It has but it doesn’t mean things can’t get out. Someone calling themselves The Hurricane has been sending information directly to them since the firewall went up. He sent us a message last night.”

Ruby raised her hand. “That firewall is over a year old, sir. Are you meaning to tell us _no one_ in Cyber Division figured it out?”

“Graves, watch your tone.” Korse stopped her protests. “Now, to the actual business at hand.”

Ruby simmered as he pulled up the security footage from the battle the day before. He explained most of the manoeuvres. (Ruby wouldn’t call them that, they weren’t organised at all.) Then, near the end, Ruby saw the girl. “Sir?”

“What, Graves?” Korse sighs.

“Is that a minor in the cross fire?”

“Yes. She’s one of the orphans of Camp Youngblood. Her name is Gracie.”

Ruby could have stopped herself from saying the first conclusion that came to mind. When she would look back on it later she would realise she should have kept her mouth shut. “You used a _child_ for bait?” 

“Now is not time for morals. We did what we had to do to lure the rebels into our trap. The girl was not valuable.”

Ruby didn’t think so. Ashely, sitting at the table ahead of Ruby and George’s turned around in her seat and shook her head. “Chill,” she mouthed.

Ruby crossed her arms primly on the table and gave Korse the best stank eye she could muster.

The dismissal couldn’t come fast enough. Ruby booked it out of the room as fast as she dared. Halfway back to the dorms, someone put a hand on her arm. Ruby turned, the tail of her braid hitting Ashley in the face. Ruby stood on the landing, Ashley a few steps below her. “What the fuck do you want?”

Ashley stumbled a little but stayed on the step. “You’re not okay.”

Ruby sighed. “This again? I’m fine.”

Ashley shook her head. “I filed a report, Ruby. You need another mental health evaluation.” 

Ruby’s world narrowed. “Three weeks, Ashley. Graduation is in three weeks.”

“Are you even going to make it that far? You’re not good at hiding your emotions or apparently which side you’re on.”

“Are you accusing me of defecting?”

“I’d accuse you of being The Hurricane but we both know you’re not that sort of smart.”

Ruby watched Ashley’s face for a few seconds. Her roommate looked determined to get some sort of reaction out of her. Like Ruby was going to let her do that. _You want to start a fight. Why?_ Instead of engaging, she started down the hall.

Ashley’s hand was on her shoulder again.

Ruby shook her head. “Ashley, you don’t want to do this. You know I’m better at hand-to-hand.”

“Bring it.”

It was a quick fight. It ended with Ashley on her knees and a sickening crack as her wrist broke.

“You were saying?” Ruby said coldly.

“You’re as much a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W as the rest of us. Could you let me up? I need to go to the infirmary.”

Ruby took a step back and dropped Ashley’s wrist. “You might want to sleep there tonight.”

Ashley stood up, visibly in pain, but with a smile Ruby knew was smug. “Well, at least you’re still good at that. Good night. You might want to keep an eye on your computer messages.” Then, she headed back down the stairs.

Ruby’s hands were shaking.

* * *

The ding woke Ruby up. To her, it sounded faint. For her to hear it, it must have actually been quite loud. She sat up, unsurprised to see that the other bunk was empty. The screen of the computer on her desk glowed in darkness. _There’s not supposed to be power to anything in this room,_ she thought groggily.

Another ding.

She got off her bunk and pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. Confused, she sat down in front of the computer.

The third ding was softer. _About time you got up, Graves,_ The screen read.

“What the fuck?”

_I couldn’t hack into your mic. You’re going to have to type._

She took a few extra seconds to fix her hair out of habit. _What the fuck?_

_Nice to talk to you to you. I’m The Hurricane._

_You’re kidding._ Ruby nervously reached for her phone. She had to call Korse—or maybe just Anders. She turned it on, only to discover she had no service. Hurricane had hacked into her computer and her phone. Well, shit.

_I’ll be gone before you can get someone to help._

Her heart was racing. She’d never communicated with rebel. Studied them, shot them, but never spoken. _What do you want?_

_You’re in danger._

_Well, that’s not news. I’m S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W._

A file started downloading. Ruby started reading. It looked like a scientific report. Every page was branded with the Better Living Industries and ‘Only to be Sent via Encryption’. She recognised a couple of the images, one of a microchip and a diagram of a human brain. Her head was spinning. She scrolled up again, eyes finally finding a title. ‘Emotion Modification’. She knew a couple of people who would understand the medical jargon better than her but she got the basics. Someone at Better Living Industries had made a microchip designed to control emotions.

_What does this have to do with me?_

The file scrolled down on its own. It stopped on a section titled ‘Possible Test Subjects’. Graves, Ruby Rebecca was third on the list.

Another file appeared. The results of her last mental health evaluation. Most of it was familiar. The inability to control her temper, stubbornness, a constant desire to be correct, even the issues with her mother were listed. Then, at the end, ‘Submit File for Consideration in Project Dale’. It wasn’t hard to conclude that Project Dale was the chip. The only surprise was the fact that her conception was listed as artificial. It wasn't an important fact in the moment, so she filed it away.

“They can’t do something like that against my will,” she said aloud.

Of course, she knows that’s not true. She knows the laws like the back of her hand. If someone decided she was unstable and convinced the Joint BL/Ind City Council of it too, she’d have to get treatment. She didn’t know how likely they’d be to demand she try this chip, instead of medication and ‘behaviour therapy’. Still, the fact that the list wasn’t in alphabetical order was telling.

 _I’m sorry,_ The Hurricane wrote. _I would have gotten this information to you sooner but I only just found it._

_Why are you helping me? I’m not the only person on the list._

_You’re the only one that’s alive._ Files for the other potential subjects appeared, every one of them stamped with both ‘Project Dale’ and a bright red ‘DECEASED’.

“Oh my fucking hell.”

_You and I both know they’ll find some way to get you, unless you charm your way through your evaluation._

_I broke my roommate’s wrist. I don’t think I can charm my way out of it._

_Since she’s in the infirmary, I suggest you get out tonight._

Ruby didn’t even think to ask how the Hurricane knew that. _I can’t leave. That’s defecting!_

_You can’t fix S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W from the inside. The system is too flawed. It needs to be destroyed._

_I’m not a Killjoy._

_No, you’re not._ A pause. _Yet._

Ruby’s hands started shaking again. She closed her eyes. The image of the little girl running through the blaster file, the Project Dale files, and the angry red of the DECEASED watermark battled behind her eyes. Slowly, she forced herself to calm down. She stood, walked over to her wardrobe and prepared to leave.

She’d deal with the fact that her world suddenly got less black and white later.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where have I been? ~~you totally don't ask because this fic isn't popular.~~
> 
> Well, since I uploaded the first chapter, I started a fic for a different fandom, had one of my chronic medical conditions flare, watched my depression spiral completely out of my control, discovered I couldn't afford medications for said depression, suffered a 12 hour break from reality, and in general had a case of the sucks.
> 
> Luckily, thanks to one of my best friends, tumblr, and a metaphorical kick in the pants from people who want to see how this story goes, I snapped out of it enough to crank this out. I only had to rewrite it twice.
> 
> Now that the awkward life update is done, onto the notes pertaining to the story!
> 
> If you're a returning reader, you may want to go back and reread chapter one. I edited some things and added about a total of a 100 words. If you're a new reader, WELCOME. My name is August. I hope you enjoy this story!
> 
> Some of you may have noticed I borrowed names from the Beyond the End series. (The first one is the inspired by for this fic. GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T). I didn't ask permission but the original author has read this and didn't bite my head off so I'm just going to assume it's okay.
> 
> This chapter was a bit more difficult to write than I thought it would be when I outlined it because feels. Also, there are spoiler notes at the end so read those too, if you would be so kind!

The Killjoy known as Little Alien hadn’t made it onto S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W ‘s radar and they liked it that way. They escaped notice mostly by not living at Camp Youngblood and keeping their real name such a secret not even their closest friends new. (It also helped that everyone who knew it was dead, but they tried not to think about that.)

They ran The House, a Camp Youngblood outpost as off the radar as Little Alien themselves. It was situated just enough into Zone 1 to be on the power and water system. Blurryface and Space Cadet kept the paperwork on it up. Their own trading skills and the help of the rest of the Killjoys kept them well stocked in supplies. Visitors tended to trickle in right when Alien was getting lonely.

Of course, when the visitors are Killjoys, things get pretty odd.

Their favourite ones were Blurryface and Space Cadet. They made music and carried around a computer filled with interesting audio bites and top secret files. Blurryface was the showman of the duo, always needing noise and movement and black paint on his hands. Space Cadet seemed shy at first but after nearly five years of friendship, Alien liked him. A lot. If pressed, they would claim it was nothing more than platonic. Favourite persons didn't have to be romantic.

The Fab Four, the most infamous of the Killjoys, also held a special place in their heart. Party Poison saved their life. There was no sense of them owning Poison for it either. It was simply what Killjoys did. Life running The House was better than being brainwashed by Battery City. Alien liked being their own little piece of the rebellion.

The House, for all its uses, wasn’t exactly an emergency medical centre. Alien had “liberated” some first aid supplies from a thug in the nearest village but no amount of basic supplies prepared them for the horror that was the day Benzedrine of the Suitehearts lost his hand.

Sandman knocked on the door late one evening, horribly out of breath. “We need your help. It wasn’t safe to go back to camp.”

Alien could see two of the other Suitehearts supporting the third between them. They were all covered in sand and blood but Benzedrine had the worst of it. Where his right hand should have been, there was nothing but blistered skin and bone. Alien froze.

“We ran into a bunch of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Recruits,” Sandman explained.

Alien stepped aside, and ushered the team in. “We’ll put him in my room, since there’s only one bed in there. You know where it is.” They quickly ran to the closet to grab the first kit. _Damn it, I’m twenty, not a doctor,_ they thought to themselves.

“We need to get him stable, so we can drive back to camp come morning.” The Professor’s smile looked strained as he took the first aid kit and got to work. “Everything should be fine.”

“How?”

Horseshoe looked to be in a fair bit of pain himself. When The Professor offered him a bottle of painkillers, he shook his head. “It’s my back. Nothing new. Like Sandman said, we ran into some training thing over in Zone 3. There were rumours that the new class of blasters could sever limps—”

“On a stationary target. We were going sixty.”

That wasn’t the ‘How’ Alien wanted but they let the Suitehearts keep going.

“Well, it looks like S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W finally got someone who can shoot. Figures it would be a girl.”

“You got a good look at the shooter?”

“She was a little hard to miss.” Horseshoe had the strangest look on his face. Alien couldn’t place it. “Lots of hair, boobs, the only one who actually had enough sense to shoot.”

“We’ll ask Blurryface to ask Hurricane to look up the recruit files when we get home. For now, we need to get working on Benze.”

It was a sleepless night for everyone. Alien put themselves on coffee and food duty in the main room. The Professor had the most experience in emergency medicine but he couldn’t do it unfed. Eventually, the sun began to rise. Alien forced down one last cup and walked back to their room. Benzedrine was sitting up, looking pale and tired but otherwise okay.

“Hey, A. Sorry for taking your bed.”

“I offered. I don’t sleep much anyway.” They were both whispering. Sandman was leaning against the wall, asleep. “Plus, the other room has a whole bunch of beds in it. It’s not like I had to sleep on the floor.” They hadn’t slept at all but he didn’t need to know that.

“Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“I doubt that.” Alien snorted. “One of Battery City’s brightest shot off your _fucking_ hand. Where’d The Professor and Horseshoe go?”

“They needed to talk about something. I’m not sure what. Horseshoe seemed preoccupied.”

Sandman slowly woke up. He ran his hand over his bright pink hair and blinked a couple times. “Is that coffee I smell?” he asked, groggily.

“Yep.” Alien popped the p. “It’s over in the main room, if you want it. I also made beans and toast. If I had been expecting you, I would have traded around for turkey jerky.”

“Coffee and toast is fine. You alright to travel, Benze?”

“Right as rain.”

“It hasn’t rained in a decade.”

Benzedrine let out pain laced chuckle as he stood. “You have a point. We should probably get going, before someone decides to come looking for us. Prof and Horseshoe are already outside.”

Sandman moved to help Benzedrine but he stopped his teammate with a wave of his one hand. “I lost a hand, dude, not a foot. I can walk.”

Things continued to be the crazy sort of normal expected from Killjoys. Alien didn’t want it to be any different. There were days when they wanted to rip their hair out or shoot someone.

Space Cadet stopped by a week before Gracie’s kidnapping. He came alone, and looked exhausted. “Blurryface and Hurricane are onto something. It’s getting pretty intense,” he said instead of a greeting. “I needed some space.” 

“What sort of something?”

“Top secret BL/Ind experiment with a high body count. Hurricane stumbled onto it while trying to figure out who shot Benzedrine.”

Alien almost asked him why they trusted The Hurricane. No one had actually seen the person behind the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W leak. One theory was that it was an artificial intelligence programed to try to locate Camp Youngblood. Both Blurryface and Space Cadet, however, firmly believed that Hurricane deserved trust. After all, they were risking their life to bypass the firewall.

Alien, personally, didn’t know what to believe.

“The shooter was Recruit R. R. G., by the way. There’s a three way tie at the top of their class. She’s a combat specialist. We figured that out yesterday.”

“You’ve been trying to get that information for almost six months and you’re only just getting it?”

“The S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W training program is kept under some of the tightest security they’ve got, according to Hurricane. Even the Recruits themselves don’t know everything.”

“I appreciate being kept in the loop but why are you telling me?”

Space Cadet sat on the house’s battered sofa. “R. R. G. isn’t the only one we need to worry about. We’re still trying to figure out how to tell everyone at Camp.”

“The other two?”

Cadet fidgeted as he spoke. “Just one. We can’t confirm who they are yet. The recruit files don’t have pictures or even full names. Technically, it’s related to something that happened before I left Battery City. I don’t know the details.”

Alien could tell the subject needed changed. “Want to go into the village? My roots are showing and I need a touch up.”

* * *

It didn’t surprise them that Space Cadet and Blurryface were the ones that told them The Fab Four died. When the duo appeared on the horizon, Alien intended to run up to them and hug Space Cadet but they both looked so solemn. Alien stopped mid-run, almost loosing traction in the sand. “Is everything alright?”

“There’s been an incident,” Cadet said nervously.

Blurry looked ready to cry. “That’s not the right word for it. The Fab Four are, well, dead.”

“What?” Alien couldn’t quite believe it. No, they refused to believe it. “How?”

“Attacked S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W headquarters with not enough back up.” Blurryface’s voice went flat. “One of the kids got taken. Time was of the essence. They got whomever was at the nearest outpost without calling Camp.”

“Who else is…”

“On our side, just the Fab Four. Eight of them, including one Red Jacket.”

Alien’s mind slid into their memories, to the night they met The Fab Four.

* * *

Before Alien was Alien, they were a nomad, living with their family in a couple of tents. Since Alien was nearly an adult and their sister was considerably younger, they owned a small tent. The fire started when they were asleep. A bit of wind picked up a piece of ash, setting the other tent ablaze. The smoke and yelling woke them.

“There’s a second tent!”

Alien crawled forward, reaching for the tent’s zipper. It was already too hot to touch.

A large knife ripped through the material at the other end of the tent. A false redhead in a mask appeared. They held out a hand. “Come on!”

Alien grasped the hand like a lifeline.

Before they had fallen asleep, the night was crisp and clear. Now, it was thick with smoke and bright with flame. They screamed, trying to get closer.

The arms of the person who saved them wrapped around their waist. “It’s too late!” they yelled. “I’m so sorry but it’s too late!”

Alien tried to turn and push him away. The flames gave them a good look at their saviour. Wanted posters plastered with his face were everywhere. “Party Poison?”

The infamous Killjoy leader tried to smile. “The one and only.”

Those first few hours watching the flames die and the sun rise were some of the clearest memories Alien possessed. The following two or three months blurred but Party Poison was the constant. Helping them heal as best they could and never pushing them to talk about it.

Still, there were some wounds that never completely healed. Now, they had another hole

Alien jumped back to the present, to Blurryface and Space Cadet’s concerned faces. “Are you alright?

“No.” They felt small, like they were seventeen again. “Who did it?

Neither of them needed to ask what Alien meant. “It’s hard to tell,” Blurryface admitted. “The security footage only has so many angles. Hurricane says it was a single blaster bolt, under the chin, delivered by Assistant Director Korse himself.”

Alien gulped.

They stood in silent mourning for several minutes. Space Cadet cleared his throat. “Maybe you should come back to Camp Youngblood.”

“No.” Alien wrapped their arms around themselves. “No, I need to be alone right now. I need space. Time to process. I need you to keep everyone away for a little while.”

“Little it’s—”

Alien cut Blurryface’s protest off. “Only he was allowed to call me that. I don’t care if you think it’s dangerous to isolate myself or whatever. I know me better than you know me. Just leave me alone.”

The pair looked at each other. “Fine,” Blurryface said finally. “We’ll leave you be for like a week. But we’re going to check on you.”

“Whatever.”

Blurryface walked back to their vehicle first, leaving Space Cadet standing alone. “Alien?”

“What?” It came out harsher than they would normally be with Space Cadet.

He squeezed their arm. The smile on his face looked genuine, although his eyes were still sad. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself? Eat and stuff and don’t hesitate to come to Camp if you need me—us. If you need us.”

Alien tried to smile back. “If I need you, I know where to find you.”

He walked to the jeep and they drove away. Only then did Alien let themselves cry.

* * *

Greif does funny things to time. If anyone had been around to ask Alien how long the Fab Four had been gone, they would have said weeks, or months, or years. In truth, only five days passed before Alien began considering visiting the nearby village. They were walking around, within sight of The House, when they came across the body.

Or at least it smelled like a body.

Not far from the stinky humanoid shape, a classic BL/Ind Zone survival pack sat. The supplies in the kits never lasted long. No wonder the thing wasn’t in good shape. They dug through it, seeing if there was anything useful. Then, they thought they heard snoring.

 _It’s alive._ Alien thought. _And asleep?_

They approached the body slowly and gently brushed it with their boot. A slight breeze kicked up, taking the sand and smell with it. It was a girl or female presenting person in a once-white polo and black shorts. Something about the embroidery on the breast pocket looked familiar. Alien leaned in closer.

They jumped back. The S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W emblem, with the word RECRUIT above it and the letters R.R.G. below, seemed to stare at them. _It’s the girl who shot Benzedrine’s hand off!_

It took a few minutes for them to calm down. They held the upper hand here, after all. R. R. G. looked dehydrated, if not all-out sick. It wouldn’t take much to put her out of her misery.

_Party Poison would have let her live._

Alien told that thought to shut up but it kept going. It didn’t work.

_S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W wouldn’t let their best recruit die like this. She’s defected. I’m sure of it. Have you ever seen a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W in shorts?_

They hadn’t. The logic sounded, well, sound. Alien wasn’t in the mood to be compassionate, however. They positioned themselves straddling R.R.G. and pulled out their blaster. They pressed down on her chest gently with their right foot.

Their first impression of an awake R.R.G. was that her eyes were the greenest green they had ever seen. They shook their head to dispel the thought.

Dropping their voice to the lowest pitch they could manage, they growled, “Don’t fucking move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to write Alien's grief. Alien in general is secretive, even from me. So, if I didn't do it justice it's because I haven't really experienced what Alien is feeling. Like at all.
> 
> Yes, I made up the idea of Red Jackets. I was inspired by Brendon Urie's suit that reminds a tumblr mutual of red velvet cake. This is my Killjoy universe I make the rules. (I think)
> 
> The next chapter introduces our final member of our trio and goes back to Battery City. That means you have to wait until Chapter 4 for Alien and Ruby to meet. Sorry, not sorry.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how actual four, five, and six year olds talk but this chapter was too fun to write for me to worry about it. Here, we meet Benne, get some probably OOC interaction with George and Ashley and meet Ruby as a teeny little anger nugget.

3

Benne Williams wanted to sleep. Scratch that, he _needed_ sleep. He’d just finished a 24 hour training shift at Battery City Hospital, come home to a broken down elevator, walked up to the sixteenth (and top) floor of his building _and_ his girlfriend hadn’t contacted him in a week. The worry had been making it difficult to sleep when the chance presented itself.

So why was someone knocking on his door?

“Bene, it’s Ash Frangipane and George Ross. We need to talk to you.”

Frangipane and Ross. What were two of his girlfriend Ruby’s year mates doing out this close to curfew?

Oh, right. He had gotten off at 6 AM. It was nowhere near curfew. “Coming!” He forced himself off the couch and pulled open the front door. Frankly, he was surprised he had the strength left. The familiar sight of the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Recruit uniform did nothing to change his mood. Even Ross’ inverse of Ruby’s initials couldn’t affect him. (Even after 4 years, it tended to startle him) He was that tired.

“You alright, bud?” Ross asked.

“Advanced medical training is going to end me,” the dark-skinned man replied. “Still, you gotta do what you got to do. Would you like to come in?”

“Sorry,” Frangipane said as she shut the door behind her. “This is the only free time we have before they crack down on us for testing and placement and this is important.”

Benne could not think of a polite way to tell her to get to the point so he said nothing at all. He probably looked foolish.

“You look like you need to sit.” Ross spilled the beans as he was moving the two kitchen chairs closer to the sofa Benne flopped himself back onto. “Ruby went missing last night.”

That woke him up better than an electric shock. “What?!”

“The who, what, where, and how is still up in the air but she’s definitely gone. I spent a night in the infirmary with a Skele-Mend for company. When I got back to the dorms, it was too late.”

“I don’t understand. Ruby’s never broken curfew. She wouldn’t,” _jeopardize her job placement_ “You aren’t trying to imply that she may have defected?”

No one ever looked at him with that much pity. Not even when he was a Factory worker’s kid. His stomach turned. Who was going to tell her mother? Who was going to tell _his_ mother?

Ross cleared his throat. “You’ve known Ruby since you were little, if I remember right. Did you notice any drastic change in her behaviour recently? Say starting about six months ago?”

“Are you interrogating me?”

Frangipane glared at Ross. “It’s not official, Bene. We’re not placed yet. The Internal Affairs Division won’t tell us squat and I for one want to know what they might know. You’re a lead. We’re asking you what they asked all of us.”

Ross stood up to leave. “Obviously, they haven’t gotten around to people outside the training facility yet. This is a waste of time, Ash.”

Frangipane pulled him back onto the kitchen chair he had sat on. “We’re not going anywhere until pre-curfew report. Not until we get answers.”

Ross rolled his eyes but stayed put.

“I haven’t noticed much,” Bene admitted. Guilt clawed at his stomach. They taught everyone how to spot potential defectors in _grade school_. He should have been paying more attention. “With her graduation coming up and me being moved from the intermediate track to the advanced track, we’ve both been busy. We haven’t broken up exactly but we talked about the reality of not seeing each other as often last week.”

“You come in contact with anyone someone might claim is a Killjoy or involved in other illegal actions?”

“I’ve been assigned to the Emergency Ward for years.” Bene shrugged. “People come and go like blinks. There’s no way to know.”

Ross looked determined. “I want you to start at the beginning.”

“What do you mean the beginning?”

“The very beginning. How you met Ruby.”

“She never told you?” Bene looked over at Frangipane. “Haven’t the two of you shared a room for years now? You’re her _friends_.”

“The three of us have bonded in a way most S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Recruits don’t but we’re still competitors,” Frangipane answered. “People’s life stories can be used against them. We’re advised to be closed books until placement.”

“So, if you know nothing about each other, how exactly did you um, _bond_?” Bene felt the heat rise to his face.

“Not like that, Williams,” Ross grumbled. “Get your mind out of the gutter. There are very strict rules against that. To answer your question, she kicked my ass both in physical training _and_ paper testing. Repeatedly.”

 _That sounds like Ruby._ Benne couldn’t stop his smile from spreading.

“That’s what she does. She even kicked Korse’s ass once.” Frangipane looked a bit more happy to answer. “I’m attracted to girly men. George was everything I wanted in a man those first few weeks. I wanted to get him kicked out so I could date him. Instead, we forged an unlikely alliance. Still not sure how it happened.”

“And Ruby?”

“She offered to let me win a couple hand-to-hand contests in exchange for teaching her how to use the online data base before our first tech test.”

Bene shook his head. “Why am I not surprised.”

“She’s always been borderline techno-clueless, then.”

“She’s a step up from her mother. Both it and ass-kicking have to do with how I met her. I guess we all have that in common.”

Ross gave him a ‘well get on with it’ look.

“I was six and a half and she was four. Well, I guess technically, it started because Mom got approved for re-placement.”

* * *

Five year old Bene Williams came home his first day of school crying. All anyone wanted to talk about were the training placement tests. Bene knew how to add and subtract already and there were thirteen more years until the placement tests that mattered. They wouldn’t even take the unimportant ones for another 200 days. According to his mother, there were 24 hours in a day. That meant there were a lot and lots of hours before the important tests. (He had tried counting on his fingers but ten wasn’t enough and he wasn’t supposed to know how to do it on paper).

Even with all those hours of school to go, his class mates wouldn’t stop talking about it. Everyone knew what they wanted to get on the placement tests and what they thought other people would get. The scariest was Tommy Irwin. During Physical Exercise, he pushed down Nikolas Westfield and yelled, “Everybody knows that if someone’s mama got a factory worker placement, they’re gonna get one too. Why are you even in school?”

The teacher promptly broke up the fight but Bene still cried when he got home.

Benne’s mom was a factory worker too. They lived in the same building in the slums. Benne had quietly helped Nikolas to his feet and then helped him pick out a New-Skin. “I don’t want to be factory worker.” Nikolas solemnly stuck the New-Skin to his scrapped up elbow.

“Me neither.”

“You ain’t going to be a worker, Ben. You’re going to be a doctor.”

Benne didn’t believe Nikolas. Tommy Irwin sounded much more sure of himself. “You aren’t supposed to say ain’t,” Benne said, repeating something his mother told him a lot.

“Why not? It’s just a word.”

“It’s inart—inart” Benne knew he knew the word but it wouldn’t come out. It stuck in his mouth like Plant-Based Protein Paste.

“The word you’re searching for is inarticulate, Benne.” The teacher gently touched both boys on the shoulders.

“In-ar-tic-u-late,” Benne echoed slowly. “Thank you, miss.”

“Good job. Thank you for helping Nikolas at the first aid station while I talked with Tommy. That was kind of you.”

“You’re welcome, miss.”

She steered them carefully back towards the desks. “It’s time to get back to learning, boys.”

Benne did okay with the learning but Tommy’s words kept bugging him. Which is why he started crying when he his mom asked “How was the upgrade from public day care to school?”

He had a hard time telling his mom about Tommy. It felt worse than the Plant-Based Protein Paste feeling. His body jerked with every sob but he got the story out.

“Tommy Irwin is wrong. Your placement test is going to be _your_ placement test. It doesn’t matter what my result was. Tommy is a bully, nothing more. If you don’t want to be a factory worker then the test won’t place you there.”

“Is Tommy’s test going to make him be a Killjoy because he’s mean?”

His mom laughed. “No, silly goose. BL/Ind doesn’t make a test for Killjoys.”

“Oh. Well, I hope his placement puts him somewhere awful anyway.” Benne knew he wasn’t supposed to pout but big boys didn’t cry about bullies either.

His mom seemed lost in thought. “Son,” she said slowly.

“Mommy?” he mimicked.

“If you’re still worried about my test affecting yours, I can take it again.”

Benne scrunched up his face in confusion. He thought it was the one test at the end of City school that put you in BL/Ind school or the Factory at eighteen and no more.

“It costs a lot of carbons. I would have to file for more hours at the factory. I might have to work at night while you’re asleep.” She seemed serious, more serious than he had seen her be—ever. “It would be hard for both of us.”

“Could we use my pocket money?”

“That’s a very big boy decision, son. It would take a lot of allowances.”

Benne didn’t have to think about it. “I want to help, since you want take it again so I don’t have to work in the Factory.”

“Okay. If you’re sure. You can change your mind anytime you want.” She went from serious to smiling again. “Now, we should eat before curfew.”

Benne nodded. Then, a thought hit him. “What’s a goose?”

His mom mimicked his thinking face. “You know, son, I don’t know. I think they’re extinct.”

* * *

It took a year and a half of no allowances, extra shifts, and no coffee but one day, his mom came home from running errands with a wicked grin on her face. For once, she didn’t look tired.

“Hi, Mom.” (He didn’t call her mommy any more. He was almost seven and knew what articulate meant). “What did you do today?”

She pulled a large envelope out from behind her back. “Remember that deal we made your first day of school?”

He grinned so wide his face hurt. “You took your replacement placement test without telling me?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She placed the envelope between him and the book he needed to read for a test the next day. “Please, I want you to read it out loud.”

He picked it up and flipped it over. The strange gnawing guilt was back. What if it said she needed to stay at the Factory? What if there was some result worse than the Factory? What if the tests really could pick out Killjoys? He broke the BL/Ind seal slowly and then slid out the first page.

“Bunny J. Williams.” He looked up at his mother.

“That’s me,” she assured. (He could tell she had already read it from over his shoulder)

He read slowly, afraid to mess up something his important. “The results of your Secondary Vocation Placement Test have been calculated. Please note that your first results are still valid and you may remain your current place of employment.” _Well, that doesn’t sound promising._

“Go on,” she urged.

“Our algorithms have determined that you would be well suited to working in Pre-Education Child Care.” He could feel his face start to hurt from grinning. “Enclosed is a list of current openings. Given your current aptitudes toward Nurturing, Gentleness, and Level-Headedness, we feel that no re-training is required. All regulations regarding various positions in the field are also enclosed. Many Happy Tidings, Better Living Industries Vocation Placement Division, Battery City Office.”

They both cheered.

They picked the listing for a Nanny/Housekeeper (Housing Provided, One Dependant Welcome) for a Mrs. R. A. T. Graves, a Politician with a four year old daughter. They had been using a droid but Mrs. Graves claimed she didn't trust it and had applied for a real person. Using a Public Communication Terminal, they set up a start date. After school let out for the day, they walked from their former apartment in the “Factory” district, to the area where vocations tended to mingle. The address listed wasn’t the biggest but it was certainly big.

Bunny rung the bell.

A pale little girl with green eyes and dark hair that seemed bigger than her head opened the door. Benne couldn’t decide if she was cute or not. Maybe he wasn’t old enough for that yet?

“Hi, there,” Bunny said. “You must be Ruby Rebecca.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is your mom home?”

“I lack sufficient data to positively verify the current location of my mother, ma’am. I believe she may be at the Joint Governing Committee Building but her work takes her to the other cities on occasion.” Then, she smiled, showing teeth with lots of gaps. “I love when people look at me like that. Would you like to come in?”

She let them into a small foyer. “Please, remove your shoes.” 

Benne looked at Bunny, confused. “How were we looking at her?” he whispered as they removed their shoes.

“That’s the look that everyone gives me when I say a long sentence. I’m not supposed to let on that Daddy taught me to read early.”

“And where’s your daddy?”

Ruby Rebecca looked at a picture of a man and woman hanging on the wall. The woman had as much hair has she did and the man had a scientist’s uniform. Ruby kept her eyes on it as she spoke. “I have not been told what happens to a corpse after it goes to the City Crematorium.”

Benne’s father, whomever he was, wasn’t factor in his life. His name was on Benne’s birth papers but he had Bunny’s last name and everything. Still, watching the little girl call her dad a corpse felt funny. It took him a few seconds to find the word “jarring” in his vocabulary. He looked at Bunny for guidance.

“Well, that explains why we’re here then.” She sounded shocked.

Ruby looked away from the picture and blinked a couple times. “That would make you the other people who are supposed to live here now. May I show you to your rooms?”

* * *

A few hours later, he was sitting at the little desk in his new room, doing homework. They had all eaten dinner and were now biding time until curfew. A gentle knock on the door made him stop. “Benne, may I come in?”

He closed the booklet. He wasn’t feeling the practice placement anyway. “Sure.”

Ruby came in, looking a little tense. “May I ask you some questions about school? I have less than a year until I’m supposed to go I would like to be prepared.”

“Yes?” Benne didn’t say it out loud because it was rude but this was girl was one of the weirdest people he had met. And a lot of people had lived in his apartment building.

“Do you have any idea how to convince the placement test to give the job you want?”

“Is there is a job you want?”

She didn’t blink or show any sign of movement really. “I will be a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, no matter what the test says.”

“You want to be a Killjoy catcher? But you’re a girl! Girls can't do that.”

Before he could think, she pulled him off his new desk chair and pinned him to the carpet. A small fist hovered above his face. “Take that back!”

Bunny appeared in the doorway. “Oh dear!” She lifted Ruby off him. “What is going on in here?”

Ruby looked at him with fire in her eyes. Benne didn’t want to admit he had been taken down by a girl. “Nothing important, Mom,” he lied.

“The two of you are supposed to be friends. We haven’t even been here a day yet. Both of you, say sorry for whatever silly thing you’re arguing about and shake hands.”

Ruby set her jaw. “I apologise for not providing a verbal warning regarding my desire to incapacitate you,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I was wrong. If you can do that when you’re a grown up, you’re going to catch every Killjoy from here to The City of Light.”

Ruby’s body relaxed. Bunny looked between her son and her new charge. “Well?”

Benne held out his hand. “Sorry. Friends?”

“Friends.” They shook hands and that was that.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than usual, because the scenes seemed to fly by. Still, 5 is already in the works so you shouldn't have _too_ long of a wait.

**4**

On the night Ruby defected, she left worlds away from the four year old with the impressive vocabulary and the dead father. She still possessed both those traits but she suppressed the vocabulary in favour of fitting in with the other recruits. And of course, a lot of people had dead parents.

Sneaking out of the dorms proved to be easy. She grabbed a Zone Survival Kit from a random storage closet. The only thing she antagonised about was a side arm. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws including recruits carried two blasters on their person, one either a hip or chest holster and a second smaller one in a concealed location. Ruby didn’t like the idea of being caught with one obviously on her person. She’d have to settle on just taking the small one.

The one she used to shoot Benzedrine’s hand off.

She tucked it into the holster on her right ankle and pulled on her boots to cover it. It was a shame she didn’t have any clothes besides her uniform. (She had other things to spend her carbons on). All the female recruits had black ankle length skirts as well as the standard black slacks and workout gear but they would do her no good in the uncontrolled environment outside the Dome.

“My kingdom for a pair of shorts.” Then she smacked her forehead. “Right, the survival kits have scissors. Amateur alterations are possible. How absentminded of me.” _Fuck, now I’m talking to myself aloud on top of breaking a thousand regulations. Brilliant._

She left the skirts behind and turned half the pants into shorts. She even butchered one of the white polos by removing the sleeves and collar. She threw the scraps into the nearest trash shoot, hoping the incinerator would turn on before anyone noticed her escape. Unfortunately, the scissors were too unwieldly to remove the extensive embroidery on the polo shirts and hoodie. The S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Crest and her initials would have to stay. She carefully folded everything besides what she wore so it would fit in the pocket labelled clothes and prepared to leave.

She exited carefully by a fire escape on the dark side of the building. The tuck and roll was awkward with the heavy survival pack. As she got to her feet, she considered saying goodbye to a few people. Then, promptly vetoed it as too dangerous for everyone involved.

The reason for not telling her mother was obvious. A member of the Joint Governing Committee would know the exact procedure for alerting S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W in the middle of the night. Hell, her mother wrote half the current Defector Policies. Ashley and George would know she was gone by Morning Report.

Benne was probably going one of three things, studying, being trained, or sleeping. She felt a little pang in her chest. They agreed they would see each other at her graduation and placement, if not sooner. She would quietly move her things into his apartment and they would carry on with their lives. If by some chance she got a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W position in another city, she’d come back the day he became Doctor Williams. Now, she would never see him again.

A goodbye would hurt too much, even if she wasn’t sure if she loved him the same way he loved her. (Not to mention, if S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W got wind that she visited before leaving, he would be investigated and anyone who had been investigated by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W could not have a medical vocation. Regulation MV-SW 17.).

So, she settled for exiting town quickly and quietly, utterly alone on her last night in the sleeping city. She didn’t fight the tears, although she kept them silent. For all she knew, she would never see her only home again.

* * *

Ruby had hope to find Route Guano and Camp Youngblood before the Zone Kit run out. Why she expected to be able to do something in days S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W hadn’t been able to do in years was beyond her. Maybe she thought The Hurricane had told them she was defecting. Whatever her reasoning, by sunset on day 4, she was sure she was descending into madness.

She started talking to her dead father.

“Is this what you were feeling at the end?” The fact he had committed suicide was she and her mother’s big secret. Not even Benne knew. “This hopeless? Did you know what BL/Ind was doing? Did you see the grey? I could do it, you know. I have a blaster in my boot. I could do it. Like Korse did to the head Killjoy. A single bolt to the chin. Or maybe I just won’t wake up.”

The next thing she knew, it was daylight and something was pressing on her chest. Her eyes opened. A Killjoy with bright blue hair pinned her to the ground. They had put one foot between her boobs and pointed an outdated blaster at her forehead. “Don’t fucking move.”

_Or this works. I probably would have died like this anyway, statically speaking._

“What are you doing this close to my house, Recruit?”

 _Fuck._ The polo. “Waiting to die. Please hurry up. Oblivion sounds like a respite.”

“I know who you are.” Was it just her or was the pressure on her chest _lessening _? “You’re the one who shot Benzedrine’s hand off.”__

“Is he dead?”

“No.”

“Good, then I can die with my conscious clear. Shoot me already.”

Neither moved.

From this angle, Ruby lacked a clear identification of which Killjoy would be the end of her. Whomever it was only holding the weapon with one hand. Their finger wasn’t even on the trigger. Not to mention, the leg attached to boot looked scrawny. Honestly, if Ruby wanted to, a few moves would give her the upper hand. “You’ve never killed someone, have you?”

“What makes you think that?”

The slight movement of their foot set Ruby’s training off. She pushed off slightly, sending them stumbling in the sand. They remained upright. Ruby moved into a kneeling position, pulled the miniature blaster from her boot, and disengaged the safety. Then, on an exhale, pulled the trigger. The bolt hit the clunky blaster, sending it flying a good six feet.

“Your finger was miles from the trigger.”

“Holy fuck.” The Killjoy held their hands up in surrender. “How did you do that?”

Ruby got to her feet. A wave of dizziness threatened to knock her over. Damn, she moved too fast. “I’m the first Recruit with a documented kill during training in the entire history of the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W organisation. Never mind that my alleged victim merely lost an appendage. I know what I’m capable of.” She carefully reengaged the safety and held her weapon out.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I destroyed yours and you need to shoot me with something. Be careful with it, will you? It’s a one of a kind Z Class BL/Ind Pocket Model with a left-handed grip and trigger function. It took a mountain of paperwork to approve.”

The Killjoy looked her over.

Ruby took the chance to return the favour. The Killjoy was smaller than her by a good six inches and a fair number of pounds. Training hadn’t prepared for how awkward it was to look at someone living as ‘Gender Defiant’. The voice was masculine, but, even with a seemingly flat chest, whomever it was seemed to have the figure of a girl. Her brain struggled to assign some sort of label.

There was also the fact they didn’t match the description or security footage of any known Killjoy, Gender Defiant or otherwise.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The Killjoy took the offered blaster and put into the pocket of their loose fitting pants. “I’m taking this until I can trust you not to shoot yourself with it. To answer, your question my name is Little Alien, Alien for short.”

“I haven’t heard of you.” _And the only people who can identify more Killjoys than me are Ross, Korse, and the veteran Red Jackets._

“Good. The House is this way.” Little Alien led the way to a structure in the distance.

* * *

Ruby followed Little Alien into what looked like the average Zone 1 living space. Battered furniture in drab colours, a tiny kitchenette, and four doors leading to other rooms. Alien nodded at the couch. “Sit.”

Ruby was too used to following orders to remain standing.

They filed a glass of water for her. “Drink slowly or you might get sick.”

Ruby took a sip of the lukewarm beverage. “Why are you doing this?

“Because I’ve seen the look in your eyes before.” They pointed at a door. “That’s the bunk room. I’ll be sleeping in there with you until I’m sure you aren’t going to kill yourself when I’m not looking. Lots of beds.” And then the one opposite. “I usually sleep in that room.” The smallest door. “That’s the bathroom. You can shower as soon as I find some clothes without that stupid emblem.” The metal door. “Supply room has a trick panel in the back so you can hide if it comes down to it.” Behind her. “That’s the only exit, unless you want to climb out a window.”

“Safe House 3?”

Alien shook their head. “Safe House 3 is in the direction of the City of Light. This is simply The House. It’s the midpoint between Camp Youngblood and Battery City.”Alien opened the door to the supply closet. “Finish that water.”

Ruby kept sipping while Alien dug through the supply closest. They came out a few minutes later with a small pile of clothes and a couple cans. “I wear pretty loose clothes. These should fit you.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to talk to me, Recruit. What are you doing here? Why did you defect? I’m probably going to have explain to someone why I’m trusting you. You don’t have to tell me everything but I need something.”

Ruby couldn’t think of anything to say. She let out a single flat chuckle. “I’m suffering a break from reality.”

“Yeah, I figured that much.” Seeing that Ruby’s glass was empty, Alien took it and filled it again.

“Why are you doing this?” Ruby asked again. “If you know who I am?”

“Because someone did this for me when my parents died. His name was Party Poison. He died last week.”

“You have my condolences and apologies.” Ruby’s hand started shaking again. The question needed asked. Ruby had almost forgotten about the girl with all the Project Dale madness. “Do you know what happened to the girl?”

“The girl? I don’t think any of the female Killjoys went on the mission.”

“Her name is Gracie. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W used for her bait. I had never seen anything that felt so.” Ruby couldn’t bring herself to say ‘wrong’. Or even look at Alien. She shouldn’t even curious about the girl.

“Oh. Classic. Discovered S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W aren’t the good guys.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” It seemed safer than mentioning Project Dale. 

“You’ll figure out how to live with the truth. I’ve always known but I know my fair share of defectors. When you’re feeling better, I’ll introduce you to one.”

When Ruby finished the second glass of water, Alien took it and set in the sink. Then, they put the pile of clothes on her lap. “You should go shower. Sometimes the power is iffy and the water gets cold when the sun goes down.”

Ruby didn’t react.

“It’s that door there, remember?”

“Right.” Ruby tried to shake the fog from her mind as she stood. “Um, thanks.”

* * *

The water was roughly the same temperature as the water from the sink. Ruby preferred hot showers but she’d take what she could get. Getting the sweat and stink off ended up being easy. Soap on, rinse off, repeat until not smelly. The amount of sand in her hair, on the other hand…

Ruby liked her hair. It took a small pile of BL/Ind products to get into a regulation S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W style (bun or braid). She would—and could—manage without them. It would take more time but damn it, she would fucking do it. So, using the harsh-smelling soap Alien kept in the shower, Ruby got the sand out.

Alien’s clothes were soft and well-worn. Ruby scrubbed her bra in the sink while she considered whether or not to wear the boxers. She discovered everything Alien handed her were boy’s clothes. She should have cared. She should have walked around in only her bra instead of becoming gender defiant. Instead, she dressed and opened the bathroom door.

She promptly started gagging. Something smelled worse than she had before the shower.

“Sorry,” Alien said from over by the kitchenette. “Some bozo fucked me over. I got a can of Power Pup instead of beans and I didn’t realise. Unfortunately, since I opened it, we have to eat it. We don’t let things go to waste out here.”

“Can we at least open the door or fucking window or something?”

“Open all the windows if you want. You’re still going to have to eat it, city girl.”

Ruby suppressed a groan but then went about opening every window she could find in the house. “I have a name, you know.”

“I don’t want to know it. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something to call you. Now, sit. This mess isn’t going to eat itself. I don’t think so, at least.” Alien portioned whatever was in the pot into two bowls and pressed one into Ruby’s hands.

 _What I wouldn’t give for the food at the training centre,_ Ruby thought as she dug in. Maybe if she ate fast, she wouldn't taste it.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I might be a little evil? Poor Pocket Pistol has zero skills in emotional regulation in this chapter and Alien has to deal with it. *shrug*

**5**

Even while forcing down a bowl of beans and Power Pup, Little Alien’s guest’s eyes were lifeless. She ate quickly and quietly and then sat on the sofa. She didn’t seem to notice Alien staring at her.

Despite the fact that she probably hadn’t eaten in a few days, R.R.G. looked sturdy. Broad shoulders, a little on the busty side, with a pronounced nose, and strong jaw. Height wise, she stood even with Sandman. Alien’s clothes were snug enough to show off muscle tone. Over all, R.R.G. wasn’t ugly but pretty wasn’t the right word either. Perhaps handsome?

Maybe it would be easier to figure out if that hair wasn’t in the way.

“So, Recruit, what’s with the?” Alien made a motion around their head.

“Uh?” The poor thing really _was_ out of it.

“Your hair.”

“Oh, fuck.” R.R.G. looked around the room. “Um, my pack anywhere around here?”

Alien threw it toward her and she caught it. “You know, I could use my knife to cut it all off.”

R.R.G. started digging through the bag until she located a brush and a couple rubber bands. She started brushing, practically ripping through the curls. “You get anywhere near my head and I will end you. We crystal?” R.R.G. pulled the hair into a severely tight bun. Without the curls framing her face, her nose looked even more prominent.

Alien smiled. _There we go. A sign of life._ “Okay, okay. I’m not going to do anything to your hair. Just chill.”

They slipped into awkward silence again. R.R.G. started drumming on her thighs in a way that reminded Alien of Space Cadet. Alien was trying to think of what to call her, besides Recruit, her initials, and city girl. None of those had the punch a Killjoy name needed. Why Alien felt so sure that this girl would end up a Killjoy was a mystery. Besides defecting, there was nothing remotely rebellious about her.

Alien, on the other hand, had always been rebellious. Their entire family rebelled, in their own little way. No one matched the levels of rebellion the Killjoys did but Road Dwellers were up there. Alien themselves had been born in the back of a caravan. (All pregnant people were supposed to report to a city either for the birth or shortly after). The very act of being born was Alien’s first act of rebellion.

This girl looked like she barely realised she had rebelled at all.

“How old are you?” Small talk would have to do until Alien could get some idea of whether or not their guest would like music.

“Me?”

“You’re the only other person in this room and I know my own birthday.”

“Twenty two, you?”

“Twenty one.”

“You’re twenty one and you’re what? 5 foot tall? I’m sorry.”

“Well, your genetics gave you that nose.”

R.R.G. poked her nose awkwardly. “It’s not _that_ big, is it?”

Alien laughed. “I’m teasing, hun. Your nose is fine.”

R.R.G. scratched the back of her neck and blushed. “Right.”

“It’s still pretty early. Do you want to go into the village? We might be able to find something that will fit you better.”

R.R.G. took a deep breath, and then another. “I sort of need to lay low for a while.” She seemed reluctant to talk about it. “I’m not your average defector, you know.”

“People have quit S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W before, haven’t they?” Alien thought they had heard a few stories. They were rumours but surely she wasn’t the first.

“Masks have left S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. First year recruits have left S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. There are channels to leave, to quit. Top-of-the-class daughters of politicians don’t quit and they most certainly don’t fucking defect.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

R.R.G. snorted.

“Look at me,” Alien said softly.

R.R.G. startled.

What they said were words that they heard a lot the first couple months after their parents died. Alien could almost imagine Party Poison standing behind them, saying the words too. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. I know there’s really no such thing as safe but you’re as safe as you can be.”

R.R.G.’s eyes hardened. Dead eyes might have preferable to the suddenly curtain. “Don’t use the fucking parent tone on me. You’re a Killjoy and I—” She cut herself off. “What I am isn’t important. Our lives are not okay. You brought me here, why exactly? To keep me from offing myself? Well guess what? BL/Ind was already planning on fucking killing me. I’m going to die anyway.”

The confession sent them both to another silence.

“Fuck, I ought not have said that,” R.R.G. whispered.

Alien filed the information away. “How about we pretend that entire conversation didn’t happen?”

R.R.G. started tapping her thighs again. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Cool. Now, let’s go. You’ll like the village. I’ll introduce you to Larry.”

* * *

Alien watched R.R.G. as they walked to the village. Even though she didn’t look okay, there was a certain grace about how she moved. Alien felt like a kid in comparison.

One question of the questions the defector had posed was important, though. Why had Alien done this? Yes, it reminded them of the kindness of Party Poison. They had been a kid when that happened though. R.R.G told them she was twenty two and she had no reason to lie. Besides the desire to die, she could _probably_ handle herself.

Maybe Alien turned to a sap somewhere along the line. 

The village was a small cluster of houses not all that different from The House. It, also like The House, had a spotty connection to the electric and water grid. Unlike The House, no one owned generators. Only two residents were prone to law breaking were Kevin the Thug, who dealt in ‘luxury’ foodstuff, and Larry, a former tattoo artist and hairstylist who had kept his trade as if tattoos hadn’t been illegal since before Alien was even born.

“I want to introduce to someone but you have to promise not to arrest him.”

R.R.G. looked confused.

Alien knocked on the door to Larry’s place.

Larry opened the door. “Ah, Alien! And you brought a friend. Brilliant. Come in.”

Alien pulled the visibly startled R.R.G. in with them. “Larry, this is Pocket Pistol. She’s having to wear my clothes. You got anything more suitable running around?”

Larry looked the newly christened Pocket Pistol up and down. “How long you been out here?”

“Five days, sir.” Pocket Pistol looked nervous.

“Which city you from?”

“Battery City, sir, although my mother came from Gem originally.”

“You ever seen this kind of ink up close?”

She shook her head.

“You want one? Free of charge.”

Pocket Pistol looked like she was considering it.

Alien, personally, didn’t understand the appeal of tattoos. An open wound could be dangerous out here in the zones. They didn’t doubt that Larry took excellent care of his equipment, but the look on Pocket Pistol’s face still concerned them.

“No, she doesn’t want one.”

Pocket Pistol finally looked away from the tattooed man and back at Alien. “Why wouldn’t I want one?”

“Because it will get infected. Your Battery City immune system can’t handle it.”

“You sound so sure.”

Alien did _not _like the look in their new friend’s eye. “Please, trust me. You don’t want this.”__

Pocket Pistol crossed her arms and looked back to Larry. “You’re not a mind reader, Alien. What would suggest, sir? I’d prefer something small personally but you’re the artist.”

Alien watched in awe as Pocket Pistol and Larry looked through one of his sketch books and settled on a crescent moon. “I left Battery City at night,” she explained as Larry set up the equipment. “The first thing I saw outside the dome was the moon. I’d never seen it before.”

Then, he got to work. Alien winced occasionally as he inked the simple outline onto Pocket Pistol’s right wrist. Pocket Pistol herself looked at it like it was nothing. Occasionally, she took a deep breath but otherwise she only blinked and watched Larry work. The room was eerily silent.

“Finished,” Larry declared, wiping the last little bit of blood and stray link away. “You’re the quietest canvas I’ve had in long time.”

“Nothing is as painful as having both your ankles in Skele-Mends at the same time, sir. That was nothing.” She shook her hand out. “Although I’m afraid it fell sleep.”

“When it gets infected, I’m leaving you in the desert to die,” Alien mumbled.

Pocket Pistol smiled. It was first time Alien had seen her do it. “Hey, I figured if I defected, and you gave me a name that sounds like it belongs to a Killjoy, I might as well look the part.”

“There are other ways to look like a Killjoy.” Alien rolled their eyes. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted too much time here.”

* * *

They weren’t even out of town when Pocket Pistol spoke again. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Alien certainly didn’t expect a thank you but it sounded genuine. “This is what people in the Zones do for each other.”

“For the name. It took me a few seconds to figure out why but it means a lot.”

“I put a pair of words together.” Alien shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” 

Pocket Pistol looked like she didn’t believe them. “So, what, you’re saying you picked it without thinking about it?”

“Well, you did say your blaster was a pocket one.”

“Yeah, my _blaster_. Pistols are outdated weapons not even Killjoys use.”

“So, I like how two words that start with the same letter sound?” Alien bristled. “If you don’t fucking like it, I can call you Pocket Blaster.”

“I like it.” Pocket Pistol assured. “I thought it was an interesting choice, given that most Killjoys don’t use alliteration in their codenames. In fact, I can only think of two, one of which included a blatant misspelling.”

“Kobra Kid.”

Pocket Pistol nodded. “And Party Poison. You might not have done it on purpose, but it feels like an honour. Not that I could replace either of them. I’m not even a Killjoy, really.”

On the edge of the town, someone stepped in front of them. “Hey, girly.” Kevin the Thug blocked their path.

“I’m not a girl, Kev.” Alien crossed their arms. “Do you mind? I want to go home.”

“Oh, come on, baby. I was just curious if you wanted to have some fun in exchange for a few supplies.” Kevin reached out for their waist.

Alien stepped back. “I have said and I will say again, I am not interested.”

Kevin the thug turned to Pocket Pistol. “What about you, pretty girl? Haven’t seen you around before. I’d really like to get to know you.”

Pocket Pistol stepped into the space Alien had just been standing. “Oh, I’m absolutely charmed,” she said in a voice Alien could only describe as too-sweet. Then, she reached up as if to pull him into a kiss.

The next thing Alien knew, Kevin was on the ground with Pocket Pistol’s foot resting on his crotch.

“I don’t know how often you proposition people for paid sexual intercourse,” Pocket Pistol said in her normal voice. “But that’s the last time you’re doing to either of us or anyone else who doesn’t want it. We crystal?”

Kevin turned his head to the side and spit blood onto the sand. “Fuck you.”

Pocket Pistol held out her left hand. “Alien, I’m going to need my blaster.”

Alien reached into one of their pockets.

Kevin tried to sit up. Pocket Pistol’s foot hit him along side the head. This time there was a tooth with the blood. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he said.

“I’m someone who doesn’t take too kindly to men who can’t handle rejection. Now, you’re going to stay right here until we’re safely out of town.” Pocket Pistol hadn’t looked Alien during the entire exchange. There was something strangely cold about the way she looked at Kevin’s prone form. “This is the last time I’m going to ask it: ‘Are. We. Crystal?’”

“Yeah, I got you.”

Pocket Pistol stepped back. Her expression softened when she looked at them. “You alright, Alien?”

Alien gulped and nodded.

“Let’s go.” Pocket Pistol led the way down the path.

“Fucking bitch,” Kevin mumbled.

Alien looked over their shoulder and walked much slower. When Kevin stood, they hurried to catch up. Pocket Pistol’s hands were shaking. Her left knuckles oozed blood. “Are _you_ alright?” Hopefully, she wouldn’t hit them for asking.

“He had a hard head. Normally, that first move would have knocked him out, not to mention the kick.”

“I didn’t ask about Kevin. Your hands...”

“Would you look at that?” Pocket Pistol flexed her left hand. “I didn’t even notice. Weird stuff, adrenaline. Doesn’t feel like they’re broken at least.”

Alien stepped forward and took her right hand. It stilled. “Good. Don’t hate me for pointing this out, but you took a wrong turn. The House is the other way.”

Pocket Pistol gently pulled her right hand away. “Look, Alien, this is awkward, but I kinda have a fiancée?”

Alien had just been trying to be comforting. “Huh?”

“Well, fiancée is the incorrect term. I suppose boyfriend or significant other would be better. We agreed we’d end up married eventually, but we never figured out the when. I had to leave him behind.”

“Oh. You miss him?”

“Since I entered training, I’ve gone longer than this without seeing him.” Her eyes emptied again. “But, yeah, I’m going to miss him, and his mom.”

“Cheer up.” Alien elbowed her gently. “If he’s anything like you, he’ll be joining us soon enough.”

It backfired. Pocket Pistol started to cry.

 _Fucking shit._ They looked up at the sky. _Party Poison, if you can hear me wherever Blurryface says the dead go, help. I don’t know what to do about her._


	6. 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This chapter is shorter and took forever to upload! SO SORRY. Anyway, I'm not 100% in love with this chapter. It's just filler for Bene's next chapter (Chapter Nine). Hopefully, I can turn out Pocket and Alien's chapters a bit quicker.

6

Bene couldn’t visit his mother until after her shift at the public day care so he tried to get some sleep. Tried, being the keyword. He tossed and turned, imaging Ruby’s face on wanted posters. Ashley and George hadn’t mentioned Killjoy activity but the possibility plagued him. Ruby wasn’t capable of doing anything halfway. If she defected a week ago, she was probably well on her way to being a rebel.

His heart ached and his head hurt.

Eventually, the clock on the wall read 4:00 PM. He needed to visit his mother. It’s not that he expected Bunny to know why Ruby left. The two had been distant since Ruby turned eighteen. He wanted some sort of insight into his own mind.

So, even though he was exhausted, he forced himself to walk the ten blocks to his mother’s place. Both is apartment complex and his mother’s were a step up from the place they had lived while she was still a factory worker. She lived on the ground floor. He knocked on her door.

She opened it. “Ben, baby, is something wrong?”

Of course she could tell.

“Mama, it’s about Rubes.”

“Oh, dear.” She looked over her shoulder. “Ladies, we’re going to have finish our reading group tomorrow. My son is having girl problems.”

A trio of the day care’s older employees sat sat his mother’s BL/Ind issue-kitchen table. As Bene stepped in, they were packing up their things. “Ben, is it?” One of them asked. “Your mother had told us so much about you! Future doctor and all that.”

Bene tried to smile.

“Fight with your girl that bad?”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his wrinkled scrubs. “I’d honestly rather not talk about it with strangers, ma’am. No offense.”

She reached up and patted his cheek. “Of course, my boy. The heart is a strange thing.” Then, she and the other two quietly left.

Before he could say anything, Bunny spoke. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Bene felt the blood drain from his face. “No, goodness no! Well, at least I don’t think so. Ruby’s never been interested in the sort of things that lead to pregnancy.”

“Then why are you looking like the enviro-dome has crashed around your ears?”

Bene gulped. Could he even bring himself to say it? “Ruby’s missing.” It sounded like he was dancing around the subject.

“Missing?” Bunny gently pushed him into one of the chairs. “Son, you’re going to have be a bit more specific. What sort of missing?”

“She left the city in the middle of the night.” Bene couldn’t look at his mother. He rubbed the back of his neck. “The current theory is that she defected but there’s a small chance she was coerced. The investigation is mostly internal.”

“Our little Ruby _defected_?”

“Don’t call her that, Mama.” He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand. “Ruby hasn’t been little since she was fifteen.”

“Why?”

“They weren’t able to tell me much. George hinted that something happened about six months ago but I don’t think he and Ash are allowed to tell me anything.”

“Six months?” Bunny sighed. “Son, have you considered checking the news?”

“Mama, I didn’t have time to check the news. I only found out at 6.” In truth, Bene rarely watched the news. He didn’t have time. Not to mention, things on the news rarely affected him, unless it was a medical emergency. In that case, he was on the front lines, before the news crews.

Bunny walked over to her in-wall computer and started tapping away on the screen. “When did she leave?” She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Never mind, this looks like a good place to start."

A video started playing. “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W announced today that they have successfully neutralised the threat of a band of Killjoys known as the Fab Four. Gerard Way, the alleged leader of the mysterious Camp Youngblood, is among the deceased.”

Bene admitted to his mother that this confused him. “What does that have to do with Ruby?”

“No one exists in a bubble.” Bunny remained standing and tapped the screen again. “When I saw this report six months ago, I wondered.”

It was the same news reporter from the first video. “News from Zone 3,” she said. “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W reports the neutralisation of Patrick Stump, known Killjoy, as the result of an attempted attack on a Recruit training exercise. No other causalities were reported. Although S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W cannot confirm the identity of the shooter for their own safety, they reported that a senior Recruit was responsible for the neutralisation.”

Bene’s stomach dropped. “Ruby killed someone?”

“That’s what it sounds like.” His mother sank onto her sofa and bowed her head. “Oh, poor baby. She wasn’t ready.”

He had seen her fight and been on the receiving end of some kicks and punches. Their first kiss had been the day she opened her test results and discovered her envelope contained a recruitment letter instead. She glowed for days before reporting to the training centre. She even glowed the first time he bandaged her up from a lost fight with a trainer. Everything about Ruby boiled down to being the best S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Special Agent she could be.

He knew why he didn’t notice. He was focused on his own training. That didn’t change that he felt horrible.

Bunny looked up after they sat in silence for close to an hour. “Ruby will be fine.” She sounded completely sure of herself.

Bene looked at her. “What?”

“Have faith, Bene. If Ruby felt the need to leave, she had a good reason.”

Bene stared at her. “What if someone forced her to leave the city?”

Bunny chuckled. “No one could force that girl to do anything. If she left, she left by herself.”

* * *

Bene spent the next few weeks loosing himself in his work. He didn’t give his mind time to wander. His patients needed him to focus on them, not on his wayward girlfriend. He caught himself about to message her computer in the trainee dorms only once.

Which is why he didn’t expect his supervisor to approach him in the locker room. “So, Williams, when’s the stag?”

“Dr. Smith, sir, I don’t understand.”

“You were supposed to be popping the question. Isn’t that why you asked for some time off? Your little S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W girl is supposed to graduate.”

Bene suddenly felt ill. He had completely forgotten about the ring box hiding at the bottom of his dresser drawer.

“She get transferred to another city?”

Bene forced himself to shake his head. “No, sir.” She wasn’t even in a city, as far as he knew.

“She break up with you?”

“Something like that, sir.”

Dr. Smith clapped him on the shoulder. “You gonna be okay, sonny? Need a pill?”

He shrugged the other man’s hand off his shoulder. “Don’t call me sonny. You’re not my father. Skin’s a bit too light.” Bene didn’t often talk about his father, but he was tired. “And no. I need sleep. My shift is over. Am I excused?”

“So the girl broke your heart. Probably wasn’t worth your time or dime.”

“Sir, I don’t need a lecture. Good night, sir.” The ring had been Ruby’s mother’s anyway. He was going to have to swallow his pride and return it. He still got anxiety thinking about the day he got it.

* * *

Since he didn’t know where Mrs. Graves moved after Ruby finished school and entered training, he set up an appointment at her office in the Governing Committee building. When her assistant let him in, the woman looked confused. She stood. “Benjamin, what are you doing here?”

“Benne’s not short for anything, ma’am.” _How long had they lived in the same house?_ “I hope you don’t mind me for talking time out from day.” 

“Please, please, sit. I’ve got this, Tina.” Mrs. Graves quickly rushed her assistant out and shut the door behind her, then steered Benne toward the causal seating area. “Now, Benne, what brings you to my office? I’ve heard my Ruby and you are involved now.”

“We’ve been ‘involved’ for a while, ma’am.”

She reached forward and took his hand. “It’s Amelia.”

“Amelia.” For some reason it tasted like acid on his tongue. He reminded himself that this was girlfriend's mother. They had the same eyes, for goodness sake.

“Right, now, I suppose you’re here because Ruby is about to finish her training. I’m afraid I can’t help you talk her out of taking a dangerous position. She stopped answering my messages a year ago.”

“I’m not trying to stop Ruby from doing anything. I just wanted you to know we’re moving in together. I didn’t want the paperwork to be a surprise.”

Amelia Graves’ face flashed with anger and then settled back to neutral. The similarities in the eyes was uncanny. Benne suddenly felt unsettled. “Are you?”

“Well, given how highly ranked she is in training, she’ll have her pick of positions and she wants to stay in Battery City. Work her way up at Headquarters.”

“Yes, I am fully aware what my daughter wants. What I don’t understand is why living with you is part of her agenda.”

“We like each other. Quite a lot, actually. We spend most of our free time together.”

Much to his surprise, Amelia slid off her engagement and wedding bands. “You’re going to marry my baby, aren’t you?”

Bene startled. “Well, we’ve talked about it.”

Amelia put the rings in his palm and curled his fingers around them. “Hopefully, she’ll take these as a peace offering.”

Bene didn’t tell her what he wanted to say. He gave her a simple thank you and walked away. It wasn’t until he made it half a block away that he mumbled, “Rings don’t fix neglect.” He kept them anyway. Rings would be expensive otherwise. He hadn’t even decided if he was going to use them or buy new ones.

* * *

When he saw Mrs. Graves standing outside his apartment building, he figured out she must have been told. He was surprised he hadn’t come sooner. “Do you want the rings back?”

The pale woman looked paler than usual. Her hands were shaking. Her too-blue eyes rimmed with red. “They interrogated me. At Headquarters. Director Cho herself did it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you know they think Ruby _defected_ of all things?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” Bene looked up, pleading with—well he wasn’t sure what. Something beyond the dome. “Do you need medical attention?”

She shook her head and ran her hands through her no longer neat hair. “My brother did this.”

“Your brother? Ruby never mentioned having an uncle.” Bene felt awkward, having this conversation in a dead city street at seven in the morning. Unfortunately, she looked too shell-shocked to make it up the stairs.

She waved the question away. “Oh, Ruby doesn’t know about Joey. He defected right around the time she was born. He obviously found out what she is and lured her out.”

Bene had minimal training in mental health but he could spot the paranoia in her voice and the lack of logic in her statement. Ruby was not a what. “Mrs. Graves, I think you need to get some rest.”

“Don’t you order me around young man!" She yelled. "My baby girl is danger.”

Bene reached for the emergency beeper on his hip and carefully typed the codes for ‘Break With Reality’ and the address of his building. “Mrs. Graves, ma’am, if your brother contacted Ruby, there would be some record of it.” He wasn’t sure how long he was going to have to keep her calm.

“He wiped her computer!” She yelled. “I’m sure of it!”

“That’s impossible.” Bene kept his voice as level as possible. “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Headquarters has the best network security in the Tri-City Area.” Sirens started blaring in the background.

Ross was the first one on scene. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. “When I heard an alert came from you, I thought maybe it was…”

“No such luck,” Bene replied. “Paramedics on the way?”

Ashley stepped out of the passenger side. “They’re having to unhook an ambulance from the charging station outside the west gate.”

If Bene was the sort of man who swore (he wasn’t), he would have. He looked between the two Red Jackets. “I thought you two where still in training?”

Ashley shrugged. “Too many losses. They pushed graduation up.” She looked at Mrs. Graves. “Ma’am? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s my girl that’s in trouble. Why are you two here? Shouldn’t you be looking for her?”

“Missing persons aren’t in our division,” Ashley replied smoothly. “If there’s a report, it’s being worked on.”

Mrs. Graves didn’t fall for it. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think I was her! You think my baby girl is a Killjoy!”

Another set of sirens, this one sounding more like an ambulance, approached. Bene hoped they were able to handle this because he sure couldn’t. Give him broken bones, runny noses, and heart attacks any day over this.


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fifty-five chapter thing is a rough guess based on my current outline

7

“So, you were going to be an Exterminator.”

That’s how Alien greeted Pocket Pistol three mornings after Pocket Pistol became Pocket Pistol. Which is why Pocket Pistol promptly groaned and hit them with their pillow. “That’s not even what Red Jackets are technically called.”

“Do enlighten me.”

Pocket Pistol opens her mouth to reply but a knock on the front door stops her. Alien grabs her arm (there’s a flash of pain as their fingers brush against the still-healing tattoo) and hauls her to the pantry. She’d probably would have been able to fight back if her mind hadn’t been fogged by sleep. Alien wasn’t particularly strong. Dazed, she let them put in behind the secret panel.

She heard the door open and Alien squeal. “Oh, Space Cadet! Blurryface! It’s just you. Why didn’t you say so?” It was the most feminine sound Pocket Pistol had ever heard the young Killjoy make.

Pocket Pistol hit the little door of her hiding space with her shoulder. She didn’t have enough space to get a good start. She couldn’t even stand. The movement stirred dust.

“Um, what was that?”

“Crap!” Alien said. “I made a new friend and she’s in trouble so I told her to hide.”

“Like fucking hell, Little Alien! I wasn’t even awake when _you_ put me in here!” She started coughing. “Fuck, do you ever dust?”

“Keep your pants on, Pocket!” She could hear Alien hunting around the pantry. “I have to find the key.”

Pocket Pistol felt her face her as she realised her legs were oddly cold on the cement floor. “I’m not even _wearing_ pants!” All she wore were her underwear and a bra. 

“That’s what you get for sleeping in your underwear!”

“If you didn’t notice, I don’t own much in the way of clothing!”

“Oh, by the way,” Alien said to their visitors. “The disembodied voice is Pocket Pistol, aka the mysterious R.R.G. Pocket, you’ll meet Space Cadet and Blurryface in a second.”

“Fucking brilliant! You told them who I am! And they’re about to be the first guys to see me in my underwear! May I remind you that I have a boyfriend back in Battery!”

More scuffling. “Let me,” one of them said gently. “I can pick the lock.”

There was a definite click and the door started to swing open. Pocket Pistol squeaked in surprise, then sneezed as the movement stirred more dust.

“Don’t worry,” the guy who picked the lock said. “My eyes are closed.”

She got to her feet and then ran for the bunk room. She shot Alien a death glare. The heat had spread from her face to her chest and showed no sign of stopping. She still felt warm after she dressed and reappeared in the front room. “Alien, if we weren’t on the same side, I’d fucking kill you for that.”

“So, the rumours are true.” The one her ears identified at the guy who picked the lock and her eyes and knowledge identified as Blurryface/Tyler Joseph smiled.

“My reputation precedes me.” Pocket Pistol continued brushing the dust and sand off the exposed bits.

“If it helps,” the other one, logically Space Cadet/Josh Dun, said. “You look nice in your underwear. The training shows.”

Pocket’s blush returned with a vengeance.

Alien smacked him as high as they could hit. “Don’t be a pervert, dude.”

Space Cadet started blushing too. “Sorry. It’s just that you totally look like you kick our asses. I think you could give The Prof a run for his carbons.”

“I’d rather not. He’s got an inch or two and a lot of muscle mass on me.” She tucked her loose hair behind her ear. “So, I know you are and you obviously know who I am. What I don’t is why you’re here.”

“We like hanging out with Alien,” Blurryface explained. “We thought we’d stop by for a visit. Sorry for showing up unannounced.”

“So nothing’s wrong?” It was in her nature to fish for information. She needed to know how Camp Youngblood was holding up after the death of the Fab Four. True, she had no one to tell but that’s what she did. She gathered information.

“It’s life in the Zones.” Blurryface answered. “Something is always going wrong with someone. We’re managing, with the circumstances.”

“I know it’s not worth much, but you have my condolences. I don’t approve of my former employer’s methods.” It acted sort of declaration, more to herself than to the two Killjoys, that she was done with S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, with BL/Ind, with Battery City. 

“Hey, you had no control over where the placement test put you. No one does.” Blurryface put his hand on her shoulder.

“I expected it though. I wanted it.” _You don’t know me._

“Past tense.” Blurryface’s smile seemed genuine. “You’re not a bad a person.”

_You might not say that if knew I left because of an experiment BL/Ind wanted to do on me._ In truth, she hadn’t thought of Project Dale in a few days, but the doubt hit her anyway. “Thank you, but you have no reason to believe that.”

“Are you okay?” Space Cadet blurted. “Your expression got dark.”

Alien smacked him again. “Enough with the negative. Have you guys eaten yet? Because I’m hungry.”

Pocket Pistol sighed in relief as the subject moved off her and onto food.

* * *

Sometime near sundown, they all ended up outside. Alien pulled Space Cadet off to the other side of the house and Pocket Pistol was left watching the sunset with Blurryface. She absentmindly started fidget. She thought about maybe asking if _something_ was going on between Alien and Space Cadet but given that Pocket Pistol didn’t know what she meant by something, it was too awkward to peruse.

“I hate silence,” he said finally. “Do you mind if I talk about something that I think might help you? It’s illegal.”

“Who am I going to report to out here?” She snorted.

He took a deep breath. “Do you know much about religion?”

Pocket Pistol shrugged. “I know it’s basically gone. From what I learned in high school, it was something humans needed to survive at first but it eventually became a source of conflict. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W dealt with a lot of underground movements when it was first formed, but they were the easiest rebels to subdue. There are still laws on the books but they aren’t really needed.”

Blurryface shook his head. “It just went deeper. Some groups even live in the cities, which is something not even Killjoys have managed to do.”

“Well, I’m not fucking surprised.” She crossed her arms. _S/C/A/R/E/C/R/OW mass incompetence strikes again, _she thought. _Or they lied. Whichever._ “I don’t see how you think this is will help me.”__

“Josh—no point in using our codenames since you know our real ones. Josh and I don’t belong to a particular group. But we’re people of faith. I believe in God. And I believe that that God loves us and can help us grow and change.”

“That sounds fucking crazy.”

Tyler laughed. “That’s what Alien said when we brought up to them too. But it’s real to me. He or She or They are real. I talk to God when things get stressful. It gives me a sense of peace and purpose. I feel like They’re there. People like Brobeck have more refined beliefs, but what I feel is enough for me.”

“Are you telling me religion is feelings?” History from before BL/Ind stepped forward to fix things wasn’t talked about beyond ‘It was bad’. Pocket Pistol only understood religion as an act of rebellion, but there were some facts that she learned pre-training in the back of her mind. 

“Sort of. Religion comes from faith and faith is based on personal conviction.”

“I know about personal conviction.” _And what happens when you loose it._

He laughed. “I figured you would.”

Pocket Pistol kept trying to remember what she knew but kept coming blank. Instead, she asked, “How did you develop this personal conviction about God?”

“Josh. He’s from Battery City. He was placed at the History Museum. He figured there had to be some interesting stuff in the physical archives so he hacked the security system. He stole a couple of old books. When we met, it was all he could talk about.”

“So, _that’s_ why the physical archives were destroyed. Is this religious stuff really that dangerous?”

Blurryface shrugged. “It used to be, when it was more wide-spread. There used to be a lot of religions, and most of them didn’t get along.”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. That didn’t sound good. When personal convictions didn’t line up, it didn’t end well. Look at the Cities’ conflict with the Killjoys. “Can I read those old books sometime?” It had been a little awhile since she touched a book—or read anything, really. 

“They’re fragile, but if you ever head out to Camp Youngblood, I don’t see why not. We’ve been meaning to input them into our computers.”

“I can wait.” Yeah, there’s no way anyone was going to let her within yards of Camp Youngblood. “How did you get computers anyway?”

“A sympathizer from Sin City.”

“Ah.” Sin City, sometimes called The City of Lights, for some reason had minimal influence from BL/Ind. If you were placed that their S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W office, you were basically useless. They followed the Inter-City Laws, as per the Accords, but their governing system didn’t have a BL/Ind Citizens Joint Governing Committee. “That makes sense.”

Now that the sun was going down, it was getting cold. Pocket Pistol curled in on herself. “So, what do you think those two doing?”

“Cuddling and watching the sunset.” She couldn’t tell if he was being serious.

“Well, I for one, am freezing. I never thought I’d miss something as simple as the fucking bio-dome.” She stood and threw her voice. “Oi! Love birds! I’m going inside!” And did just that.

* * *

The cramping started the following morning. The familiar ache jolted Pocket Pistol awake. She groaned. She lost track of time. What was she going to do without access to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W infirmary and BL/Ind Menstrual Formula? Oh, and period friendly underwear. It struck her then that for all she knew, Alien didn’t have a uterus. They might not have anything on hand. She groaned again. On her period in a room full of dudes.

Alien, who had taken the bunk above them, hung their head over the edge. “You’re awake.”

Space Cadet, on the bottom bunk across from her, woke up with a yawn. “Morning.” Then, he saw her, curled up pathetically. “Are you okay?”

She groaned and covered her head.

“Pocket isn’t a morning person,” Alien said.

_Please, just let them leave the room so I can deal with this alone,_ Pocket Pistol thought. _This is worse than yesterday._

“Let’s give her some space.” Pocket heard Alien swing off the top bunk and pulled Space Cadet off his. “Blurryface, come on. Pocket Pistol needs some alone time.”

It took her too long to force herself off the bunk. She quickly wrapped herself in the sheet and wrinkled her nose at the smell. _I really hope they couldn’t smell this._ She shuffled to the bathroom, happy to see that the house was deserted. She closed the door and locked it.

Then, she saw the note and the pill bottle and started crying.

Alien opened the note by drawing a blaster and then wrote:

_We’re going to be in the village all day. I’ll see if I can be discreet about getting you what you need. Chin up buttercup and remember to clean your tattoo too._

The note ended with a little alien head drawing.

Pocket decided to blame the fact that she was crying on hormones. The Killjoys weren’t at all like she expected them to be. One, no one had tried to kill her. (Alien had had no intention of shooter her the day they met, in her opinion.) Two, they were nice. True, she had only talked to three of them but Blurryface at least seemed to _trust_ her. Why else would he have told her they had illegal books and beliefs?

She already knew her life was going to change the moment she left Battery City. It was just that she expected it change via, well, ending it. Instead, she was standing in a bathroom with a tattoo on her forearm and a note from a Killjoy in her hand.

This is the exact opposite of what she expected.

She scrubbed the blood out of the clothes and blanket as best she could. Then, she swallowed the painkiller. Sadly, it was not menstrual formula. Still, while she showered, she felt the cramping ease. She was able to straighten up and let her body relax.

The early summer heat dried out the clothes. She stuffed some toilet paper in the boxers and quickly tamed her hair. Now, to figure out how much time she had alone and how to spend it. _Probably should eat something_ she thought.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get time to do that either. Right as she was putting on one of Alien’s extra tank tops, she heard the front door open and Alien yell.

She unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. “What?”

“We have to go, like now.” Alien opened the door to the pantry and started throwing things in the bag that once held Pocket’s BL/Ind Zone Survival Kit. “I know you’re not feeling well, but it’s urgent. Grab anything you might need.”

Pocket quickly joined them at the pantry. She found a dusty duffle bag and started packing too. “Our location has been compromised, then?”

“If you mean Kevin fucking filed a report with fucking S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, then fucking yes. We’re fucking compromised.” Alien shouldered the pack and then reached into a pocket of their pants. They held out her blaster. “You’re a better shot than me, plus I might have to drive.”

“Where are we going?”

“Space Cadet and Blurryface are taking us to Camp Youngblood. We have to the long way, just to be safe. Their car is started and running outside.”

Pocket froze halfway to the door. “What?” _I can’t go there! They might think I’m a spy!_

“Pocket, move your fucking ass. Unless you want to get your fucking ass arrested!” Alien pushed her out the open door and into back seat the waiting car.

Pocket reached for a non-existent seatbelt. Her hands were shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's outline looked like this:
> 
> It's SC and BF! Huzzah!
> 
> Time to embarrass Pocket, also more mental anguish
> 
> Religion Time! + a hint of foreshadowing
> 
> Hey, look, it's like my characters actually have body parts! (if this made you uncomfortable, it's 1. natural and 2. This is rated Mature)
> 
> Alien being nice
> 
> Chaos


	8. 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go back and add some more context clues for the ending of this chapter/chapter 10. Just so you know.
> 
> Also, you should totally check out my website: [Here.](http://augustmcmullen.site/) If you have a tumblr, you can follow me. I post daily-ish journal entries, recommend music, and talk about religion and queerness. If you shoot me an ask or message and tell me you've come from Ao3, I might follow back!

Alien admittedly didn’t know much about S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W training but it surprised them that Pocket was such a deep sleeper. Which is why they knew something was wrong when she was the first one awake the morning Space Cadet and Blurryface stayed over. They looked down from their bunk and saw a familiar expression.

It was the look of a person with a uterus who’s uterus was doing what uteri do. Alien hadn’t had period themselves in a while. They went to Camp Youngblood every twelve weeks to get a shot. Either that shot wasn’t available in Battery City or Pocket elected not to get it. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that Alien didn’t keep what Pocket needed on hand.

So, they forced the guys out of the room and thought about how to bring up that they needed to go the village.

Space Cadet came to the rescue. “She’s not okay, is she?” he whispered.

That firmly cemented a thought they had been entertaining the night before. Space Cadet was the love of their life. He didn’t know it but they could work on that. His kindness made their heart soar. “Not exactly, no. She should be fine, if I can find a few things in the village.”

“We’ll have to walk,” Blurryface admitted. “The car needs to charge.”

“I don’t mind.” Alien grabbed a couple packs of water from the pantry and then wrote a quick note to Pocket, complete with little drawings. They set the note and a bottle of painkillers on the bathroom sink.

As the three Killjoys left the house, Space Cadet reached down and grabbed their hand.

Alien thought of the night before, when they were watching the sunset.

Space Cadet had pulled them around the corner, leaving Blurryface and Pocket leaning against the wall by the door. “What’s going on?” they asked. Their heart soared at the thought of the being alone with him. Wasn’t the sunset supposed to be romantic or some shit? 

“Blurryface wants to talk to your friend about something.”

“And we can’t be there, why?” The declaration didn’t surprise them. Space Cadet and Blurryface had this weird way of silently communicating. Alien couldn’t keep up with them sometimes.

“It’s private. I’m not even sure what exactly he needs to say. Just that he thinks it can help.”

“Oh.” They wouldn’t admit it, but it bummed them out that Cadet didn’t want to be alone with them because they were them. It was a platonic thing.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He sighed. “Alien, I _like_ you. As much as I respect Blurryface and Pocket’s right to privacy, I wouldn’t pull you away from them if I didn’t want to spend time with you.”

“Are you sure?” Alien couldn’t bring themselves to look at him. Heat spread across their cheeks.

“Hey.” His voice sounded gentle. “Look at me.”

They looked up.

“I mean it. You’re amazing. You took in a woman who may be dangerous, just because she needed help. You’re brave and selfless.” Then, he looked away, shyly. “And you’re cute.”

Alien snorted and rolled their eyes. “Yeah, right.” They were short, covered in freckles, and over all unremarkable. “What do you want to do while they talk?”

They sat in the sand. Alien pulled a water bottle out of one of the pockets of their cargo pants. They wetted the sand enough to mould it. So, they and Space Cadet made sand sculptures until they heard Pocket yell. ““Oi! Love birds! I’m going inside!”

Alien hadn’t realised the sun going down but as another blush creeped across their face and down their neck. “Did she—”

Cadet shrugged. “Easy mistake to make.”

So, Cadet’s hand in theirs was a mixed signal, until he grabbed Blurryface’s with the other. “I don’t want to lose either of you.” It was just Space Cadet being himself then. Baffling, wonderful Space Cadet.

* * *

They approached the village no differently than they normally would, besides the hand holding. That was until Blurryface saw something. He pulled the other two along with him, so they were hiding behind the corner of one the abandoned houses.

“What?” Alien yelped. Now they knew what Pocket felt like yesterday when they forced her into the hiding space.

He put a finger to his lips and then pointed around the corner. Alien poked their head out.

A man stood at the door to the house Alien identified as Kevin’s. He looked like he was just leaving. He wore a long grey coat, despite the rising temperature. The sun reflected off his bald head and he held himself in a way that screamed authority.

“Who is it?” they whispered.

“Assistant Director Korse.” Blurryface pulled them back. His words were laced with fear. “The guy in charge of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W training.”

“You don’t think?” _They’re looking for Pocket._

“Yes, that’s her. I thought she broke my jaw at first,” Kevin said, loudly. “I knew fightin’ like that doesn’t come naturally. She hangs out with the blue haired kid that lives about three miles from here.”

“Blue-haired kid?”

“Yeah, teeny thing. Can’t quite figure out if it’s a boy or girl. Freckly. Might be some kid a nomad abandoned. I never asked. Worried about them though. With the hair, prime for being taken by the Killjoys.”

 _Fuck._ Alien tensed. Cadet squeezed their hand. Blurryface shook their head. If they ran now, they’d be spotted. All any of them could do was listen, try to control their breathing, and hope Kevin would accidentally misdirect Korse.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid your concerns were correct. Both Miss Graves and her friend have likely been brainwashed.”

“Shame. Wish I had reported it sooner.”

“It’s alright, sir. There was no way for you to know. Do you know which direction their hideout is?”

“I’m not the sort of guy who carries a compass.”

Blurryface looked up to the sky. “Thank God he’s stupid.”

“Is now the time to invoke a fucking mythical being?” Alien hissed back.

“Just a general direction is fine.” Korse speaking broke off the argument. They had it before anyway.

“Outta town, take a left, head for the Zone 2 border. Not sure which side it’s on.”

Their breaths of relief were almost in unison. Both of the guys looked up. Alien rolled their eyes. A door opened, then slammed, and an engine started. “We need to go, fucking now, before he figures out that left will only get him to the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Them.” Space Cadet’s voice cracked. He looked pale. “He has an Exterminator with him.”

The fancy all-terrain vehicle was high enough off the ground that no one in it had a clear line to sight to their hiding space. The three Killjoys had a view of the profile of the driver, a male in a familiar blood-red jacket. Alien didn’t need to be close to it to know it was velvet.

“Is that?” Blurryface whispered.

“I pray it’s not. I’d hate to have to explain it to The Sun.”

“But that other recruit?”

Alien shook their head and pulled Space Cadet in the opposite direction the vehicle turned. “Whatever you’re thinking, fucking forget it. It’s not important. We need to get back to Pocket and go.”

As soon as the vehicle was out of sight, they ran for it. It would be the fastest three miles any of them had ran.

* * *

Later, in Blurryface and Cadet’s beat up solar/electric car, Alien had to take their shift driving. It was slow going, because the car wasn’t designed to charge and move at the same time. Still, it was faster and safer than running. They were able to keep going after dark. Everyone was tense, but Pocket had fallen asleep in the back seat. She curled her feet up under her, put her head against the window, and slept like the dead. Alien envied her.

“She’s going to have learn to sleep light at Camp,” they mumbled, turning to look at the endless desert ahead of them. “Shame.”

Blurryface looked up from his tablet. “We’re finally close enough that I can get Benzedrine. Will she sleep through it?”

Cadet, who was sitting in the back with Pocket, ( _Don’t think about it,_ Alien ordered themselves) said, “Most likely. Whatever painkiller we gave her much have done the trick. She’s drooling.”

Blurryface tapped a few things on the screen. There was a slight squeal when it connected to the car’s speakers.

Alien’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. They took a deep breath. _I’m going to have to fucking lie to Benzedrine. Shit._

Space Cadet reached forward and squeezed their shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

They nodded once.

“Benzedrine, can you hear us?” Blurryface held the tablet in such a way that the microphone was in a central location.

“As well as can be expected. What the fuck happened?”

“One of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W’s higher ups got the location of The House.”

“Fuck!”

“Not so loud!” Alien hissed. “We have someone with us.”

“Someone?”

“Don’t exactly know who she is.” Alien’s voice almost caught. They coughed. “Sorry, we had run part of the way. Sand in the lungs.” _How many lies are too many lies?_

“She going to be safe to have around?” Benzedrine sounded understandably weary.

“I can vouch for her,” Blurryface said.

“Oh, she’s one of your and Cadet’s people then?”

_Well, that explains the conversation from last night. Blurryface planned for something like something this. Man’s a genius._

Blurryface didn’t answer directly. “She got herself into some trouble in Battery. We’re calling her Pocket Pistol for now.”

“Pocket Pistol? Alright. I’ll see if we have an open up a bunk.”

“We should be there around sunrise.” Blurryface was good at being the one to talk. Space Cadet and Alien let him.

“Roger.”

“Oh, and Benzedrine.” Blurryface took a deep breath. He must have been nervous about something. “We have news. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad yet.”

“More news than our securest safe house being compromised?”

“The Moon’s alive,” Space Cadet blurted. “We all saw him.”

 _Who’s The Moon?_ Alien’s concentration broke. Route Guano was barely a road at all. They couldn’t swerve to miss the next pothole. The car lurched. Pocket startled awake with a gasp. Alien looked over their shoulder. Her green eyes looked wide with fear. “Sorry, rough road.”

Blurryface looked at her too, nodded at the tablet, and put a finger of his free hand to his lips.

Eyes still wide, Pocket Pistol nodded in understanding.

Alien was surprised she was so trusting.

“Any way we can confirm it?”

“Hurricane might be able to. I’m not sure. We’ll have to ask them.”

“Any chanced Hurricane is The Moon?”

“We’ll have to ask,” Blurryface repeated. “We should probably hang up. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W might be trying to track us.”

“Alright. See you at sunrise.” The connection crackled and ended.

Pocket stared at the tablet. “Was that?”

“The legendary Benzedrine.”

“He really is alive. He sounds exactly like the recordings.”

Alien scoffed. “I told you that already!” They couldn’t believe it. So much for being trusting. They hit another pothole.

“Yeah, but hearing the voice of the man you allegedly killed is a completely different experience.” Pocket braced herself. The guys took it like it was nothing. “Are you sure it’s the road?” Her voice sounded downright _bright_.

“Do you want to drive?” Alien demanded.

“Sure.”

’

“Seriously?”

“I’m primarily trained in hover bikes in this environment, but in-city training is with cars, since we’re supposed to work in pairs.”

“Fine, then.” Alien hit the breaks abruptly. “Your turn.”

* * *

Pocket drove until the car ran out of power. Sunrise wasn’t too far off. They all piled out of the car and huddled close in the cold. “So, I have no idea how close or how far we are,” Pocket said. “But I need to know the plan to keep someone from killing me. Trohman got a clear look at my face six months ago.”

The three of shared a look of confusion.

“Sorry.” Pocket looked down. “I mean Horseshoe. The first part of the plan might be for me to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

Blurryface held out his hand. Space Cadet took off the scarf he used instead of a mask and slapped into the offered hand.

“Well, that’s just creepy.” Pocket looked at Alien. “Unless you all made a plan while I was sleeping?”

“Nope.” Alien popped the p. “You’ll get used to it.”

Blurryface laughed. “How where you wearing your hair the day you shot Benzedrine?”

“Bun, but it fell out in the fire-fight. I should probably braid it. Anybody got a rubber band?”

Blurryface slid one off his wrist and handed it to her and scarf.

“You too?” The two shared an expression that Alien found more baffling than Cadet. They clearly missed something but Blurryface and Pockets suddenly looked like kindred spirits. They’d have to ask one or the other about it later.

She braided her hair like it was nothing. Then, she pulled the scarf on and pulled it over her nose. “Wish my nose wasn’t so fucking big.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric.

“Advice, don’t cuss. We may have let Benzedrine assume you were like us.”

“Religious?” she asked. The boys nodded. “Well, it’s a brilliant plan, but I wish you could have ran it past me. Still affirms that I should keep my mouth shut.”

Alien couldn’t believe it. “You’re okay with it? Not fucking talking?”

She pulled the scarf down. “It’s not ideal but I’m adaptable. It says so in my placement test results. It’s just until I can find somewhere else to go. I faced worse in grade school.”

Headlights appeared in the distance. Alien felt themselves tense and turned toward the light. Out of the corner of their eye, they watched Pocket pulled the scarf back up and move to the back of the car.

“Don’t worry.” Blurryface tried to assure them. “The only people who should be out here this time of night of are Killjoys.”

The car approaching felt like it took forever. It pulled up to them and The Professor and Horseshoe came out.

“You guys run out power?” The Professor asked. 

“Yes,” Blurryface answered. “Is there room for four more?”

“Four?”

Blurryface nodded toward where Pocket was hiding. “Benzedrine didn’t tell you? We picked up a stray.”

Alien looked over at Pocket Pistol. The word stay seemed to fit. Her pupils were huge and she reminded them of a feral kitten. The fear was real. “It’s okay. It’s just The Professor and Horseshoe. They’re harmless. Well, mostly,” they amended.

She came around the car into the light. The movement made Space Cadet’s scarf fall. Alien closed their eyes for a brief second. _Oh, shit. No. No. No. It wasn’t supposed to happen lie this._

Horseshoe broke the silence. “Amelia?”

Pocket Pistol turned and ran.

The Professor took off after her.

Alien froze. _FUCK!_ “Don’t kill her!” they screamed after him. “Please!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame Starora for this development.


	9. 9.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fiddling with the ages a bit. Just so you know. Also, there's a slight timeline issue I'm trying to fix a Benne or two back. So if you notice things aren't lining up, that's why.

9

When he saw Dr. Smith and another Doctor waiting for him in the Emergency Department locker room a few days after Mrs. Graves’ hospitalisation, Benne knew something was wrong. Mostly because between them they held enough physical paperwork to make several patient charts. “Sir, ma’am.” He nodded and waited for an order.

He would have been more worried but he was distracted by the image of Mrs. Graves’ eyes. _Ruby’s_ eyes. First crazed and then hazed as a medic stabbed in her neck with a syringe of sedative. It seemed to be burned behind his eyes but his mind was playing tricks on him. Their faces kept getting mixed up.

“You’re being transferred to another program,” Dr. Smith said firmly. “This is Dr. Herrick, from Experimental.”

“Oh.” Benne couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’ll just clean out my locker then. Where I am to report now ma’am?”

“You aren’t even going to ask me why?” Dr. Smith asked in surprise.

“Well, sir,” he replied dryly. “I suspect it’s due to our disagreement at the end of my last shift. Frankly, I don’t care. I’ve been having a rough month. I’d rather just get on with the paperwork and my job if at all possible. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Herrick.”

“I like your style, Benne. Welcome to the team. And please, call me Helena.” The female doctor put her papers down on a nearby table and held out her hand.

Benne shook it and looked over at the papers. The top page had “Security Clearance” and the BL/Ind logo printed at the top. The name Herrick suddenly rang a bell. When it came to new treatments, she was the best of the best. She was also considered young. “If this was meant as a punishment, sir, you failed horribly. Ma’am, this is an honour.” He dropped her hand, suddenly feeling awkward.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, Williams. I didn’t have a position open but we’ve let someone go recently. You were at the top of my list. How do you feel about neurology?”

“I know the basics, ma’am. Emergency covers a little of everything.” Suddenly things were looking up. “How did you find out about me?”

“I’ve been flagging the most promising medical placements since I became head of my own team.” She pulled a pen out of her white lab coat. “After you fill out the paperwork, you can go home. We’re not night shift people in the sub basements.”

“He has to fill out mine first.” Dr. Smith pointed out. “And unlike you, I have patients to look after.”

Benne didn’t mind filing the transfer paperwork. It was familiar, just like when he transferred from the paramedic track to Advanced Emergency. Dr. Smith took the stack of papers and then exited. 

The stack of papers from Dr. Herrick—Helena—seemed more daunting. It was considerably taller for one thing. The other was the first page. Security clearance. With Ruby having defected, was he even considered safe to work in Experimental? He knew there were laws about medical professionals and Killjoys, but he couldn’t remember the details. He looked over at Helena. “There’s something I should tell you.” 

“I know you don’t know your father. Since you’ve never had contact with him, it’s not a security risk.”

“I don’t think my father is a Killjoy.” He took a deep breath. “It’s my girlfriend.”

“You don’t seem like the type to date a rebel.”

“I don’t know if she rebelled. All I know is that she’s missing. But there’s a chance—”

Helena cut him off. “You mean the Graves girl?”

“You know about Ruby? I thought the media was keeping it hush, because of who her mother is.” Since his mother suggested it, he had been checking the news. So far, things in the Zones were reported as quiet. It had been chalked up to the Killjoys being in mourning.

“I knew her father. I’m in contact with a few people at S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. The current reports list her as kidnapped.”

 _Was her mother right?_ “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you into the program if I wasn’t. The two of you have known each other for years. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W lists her as kidnapped. You have no known rebel connections. Unless there’s something you didn’t tell them?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t know anything.” He had to finish this paperwork and visit his mother. “If I knew anything that could help her--” His throat suddenly felt thick.

Helena smiled kindly. “I understand. The Killjoys are dangerous. The fact that they took someone from S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W headquarters is more frightening than someone defecting. That’s probably why you weren’t told. I’m sure they’re doing their best to find her.”

He looked up at her. She looked like she had a personal conviction but his gut told him not to trust her. He quickly shut the thought down. He had no reason not to trust her. She looked genuinely concerned for both his and Ruby’s well-being. He quickly read and signed the paperwork.

She took them, a big grin on her face. “Welcome to the team, Dr. Williams.” Then, she handed a new identification badge. “I’ll meet you at the front of the hospital at 7 tomorrow morning.”

Benne felt like he was floating as she walked away. He emptied his locker in a flash—he’s never owned much anyway. Then, he remembered part of the paperwork. His salary…

_What I am going to do with that many carbons a week?_

* * *

“So, you got yourself a promotion?”

Benne sat across from his mother, carefully eating his noodles. He had promptly left the hospital and come to visit her. She had promptly fed him, cooking while he told the story of his conversation with Dr. Herrick. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And this new boss of yours says Ruby’s disappearing act has been classified as a _kidnapping_ of all things?” Bunny sounded sceptical.

“It sounded crazy to me at first too,” Benne admitted. “But Dr. Herrick is an important woman within Better Living Industries. I don’t think S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W would lie to her. Plus, if Ruby really had defected, I wouldn’t have been eligible for the position.”

“What are they doing to get her back?”

“I don’t know. Dr. Herrick didn’t have time to talk.” He took a swig of water. _Why doesn’t she sound like she believe me?_ “I can ask her in the morning.”

“What do Killjoys do to captives? Are they expecting a ransom? Do they know who her mother is?” Bunny sounded frantic. “Benne, they could have already killed her! It’s been almost a month!”

He sat there, twirling his noodles. His appetite seemed to be gone. He could tell his mother what Mrs. Graves said as well, but she hadn’t been well when she said it. He looked up at Bunny and set down his fork.

“Do you know something else?” she demanded. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I can’t see my own face anyway. I don’t know how accurate this information is, but someone from Mrs. Graves’ family, back in Gem City, might have a connection to the Killjoys.”

“Always knew that woman was hiding something up her too tight skirts.” She stood, as if to fill his bowl again. Instead, she bumped her arm on something in the too narrow space. “Oh drat!” she exclaimed, rubbing her elbow.

He got to his feet instantly. “May I?”

She offered him her arm with a pained but amused expression.

It looked and felt like a normal elbow. She didn’t even look she was in enough pain for it to be broken. “I suspect, ma’am, that you have struck your ulnar nerve against the medial epicondyle of your right humerus. It’s nothing serious, but I suggest using a cold compress to combat potential bruising.” He let her arm go gently and then pushed her back into her seat. “I can get the ice.”

She kept rubbing her elbow as he filled a small kitchen towel with ice. “You don’t use words like that with your patients, do you?”

“No. I would normally say ‘you hit your funny bone’.” He chuckled. “We’re encouraged to dumb it down. I’ve never understood why we call it that, though.” He handed her the ice.

Someone knocked on the door to the apartment.

“Go ahead,” she said. “It’s probably my bridge group. You aren’t going to want to stay. Just a bunch of women gossiping.”

“Since when did you play bridge? Isn’t that an old lady’s game.”

She ushered him to the door and pushed him out as the same trio of old ladies from a few weeks before came in. “Have fun at your new job placement, Ben. You can tell me all about it on your next day off!” she exclaimed, as she shut the door behind him.

 _So much for suggesting I use my new found income to get the two of us a house,_ he thought as he walked home.

He knew, with the amount of carbons his contract said he’d be making he could technically leave his top-floor apartment with the broken elevator, but the Housing Committee didn’t usually approve moves for one person. He headed down the grid-like streets, hands shoved in the pockets of his scrubs.

That’s when he saw George Ross, red blazer slung over his shoulder, the fringe bowl cut plastered to his forehead, as if he had been sweating. “Oh, Williams. Funny seeing you here.”

“We probably live in the same neighbourhood, since we’re in the same income bracket.”

George shrugged. He looked beat. “I guess so.”

“Are you alright? I didn’t notice any issues with the environment dome.”

“My current case took me out into the zones. You ever been outside the walls, Williams?”

“No. Haven’t really had reason to.”

“I forgot it’s fucking hot this time of year.” He leaned against a nearby wall. “Don’t know how Ruby’s made it this long.”

“Are you on Ruby’s case?”

“Unfortunately.” His words were slightly slurred. “I probably shouldn’t be but I’m working directly with Assistant Director Korse. Before you ask, she’s not dead but we’re not 100% where she is. Potential informant led us on a chase. Turns out he was running smuggling operations and thought pretending some zone kid was Ruby would get him off.” He made a vague gesture with his hand and stumbled. “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but I don’t care.”

When he stumbled forward, Benne got a clear wiff of booze. “Ross, I mean no disrespect, but are you _drunk_?”

“Smuggler had a huge fucking stash.” Ross hiccupped. “I had to input the inventory. Korse didn’t notice I nicked a bottle.”

Benne had a few experiences with drunk people in the emergency room. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W was always involved, but only because alcohol was highly regulated. Usually, after the patient got their stomach pumped, they were promptly arrested. Benne never thought he’d see a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W themselves inebriated. “Ross, _do_ you live around here?”

Ross looked around him. Benne started noticing things he hadn’t noticed before. What he thought was exhaustion was clear disorientation. Ross tried to focus on the nearest street sign, to no success. “Not sure, man.”

Benne took a look at his watch. _It’s a little too close to curfew,_ he thought to himself. “Do you want to crash with me tonight? I think they got the elevator at my building working finally. I have a couch.”

“You sure?” He stumbled again.

“I switched over to days, so I have to get up early. If you don’t mind, I don’t mind.” He started half-herding Ross toward his building.

The elevator worked, blessedly. Benne looked up at the lighted celling of the compartment as Ross wobbled again. He sighed, sent up a prayer to whatever was beyond the dome, and said, “Do you need some support, Ross?”

Ross nodded and lurched in way Benne recognised as a heave. _Please don’t vomit in here, _he thought. _I don’t want to explain this to the people who clean the public areas.___

The doors opened on the top floor and Benne had to go from herding to down-right supporting. He entered the code on the apartment door, struggled with both the door and Ross, and then deposited the younger man in the bathroom.

“I was eighteen.” Ross slurred out right before he started puking. He still had enough presence of mind to get it in the toilet. “They were seventeen. _Fucking_ seventeen. It was the four of us against the world.”

Benne reached into the cabinet above the sink and pulled out a bottle of painkillers. He kept it in his hand as he stepped into the kitchen/dining/living area and grabbed a bottle of Electrolyte Beverage. Then, he sat on edge of the tub. “Oh?”

Ross puked again and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of white his button down shirt. The S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W emblem on his breast looked less unsettling with the letters SA on the top and Ross on the bottom, instead of the reverse of Ruby’s. “We were just a bunch of fucking Zone Rats. Brendon’s parents were still alive fucking somewhere but even he was an orphan.” He heaved again but nothing came up. He leaned against the back of the walls of the tub.

Benne reached forward and flushed the toilet. Ross groaned.

“Alcohol is dangerous. You _should_ know that.” Benne kept his voice as gentle as he could. Removing the cap, he handed Ross the bottle. “Slow sips or you might puke it back up.”

“I didn’t expect to fall in love with him, of all fucking people.” Ross took a sip and made a face. “What is this? Cherry-flavoured salt water?”

Benne had to fight the urge to laugh. “Basically.”

Ross took another sip anyway. “The last time I was out in the Zones, I was fine but today, I wasn’t. Didn’t expect to be reminded. God, Brent didn’t deserve it.”

Benne sat there, listening, but unsure of what else to do.

“When he got sick, I had to fight to bring him here. He died and I decided not to go back. We were all living at Camp Youngblood and I told the social worker. We were a team, had ran a few smuggling missions. I didn’t realise we had already been noticed.”

Benne’s stomach dropped.

“Ever had to talk your way out fucking of trouble, Williams?” Ross got to his feet, still wobbly. “Doubt it. That’s how I ended up in S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. Convinced them I had the fucking skills, didn’t even have to take the fucking test. Fuck, I need sleep.”

Benne herded him toward the couch, trying to keep his mind from racing. Ross saw the couch and stumbled onto it, lying face-first on the cushions. He was out.

Benne checked Ross’s pulse and then turned his body so potential vomit wouldn’t choke him. Just to be safe, Benne decided to sleep in the battered chair across from the couch. He grabbed a couple of blankets from his room, draped one across Ross, and then settled in.

“It’s going to be a long night,” he mumbled at the ceiling. “A drunk Reformed Killjoy of all things. My life is starting to sound like a bad joke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't figured out that Ross and Ruby are supposed to be opposites, oh well. Now you know. Should be posting 10 before Monday. (It's basically Friday here).


	10. 10.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _so _late and I am sorry. Tech troubles. Anyway, I'm hoping to have 11 finished in about twelve hours and 12 has an outline.__

10.

Pocket Pistol hadn’t been the best free runner in her training year. That distinction had gone to J. Jonas, another recruit set to be a Red Jacket. After a rather embarrassing landing where she broke both her ankles, she became a quick study. Which is why she was able to jump over the first several potholes in Route Guano with ease.

She didn’t know why she decided to run. At the sound of Trohman calling her by her mother’s name, adrenaline spiked. The reaction to turn and run felt involuntary. The world narrowed. She barely heard Alien yell. Hurley’s foot falls behind her warred with her own and her heartbeat.

 _Well, I guess I don’t want to die anymore,_ she thought. The thought startled her enough that she stumbled on a pothole. She stayed upright, but only long for Hurley to tackle her.

“Pocket!” She heard Blurryface come running. “Seriously, they just want to talk to you. Prof, did you really have to hit her?”

The pavement scratched her face and burned in the general area of her tattoo. Hurley was heavy against her back. “It was instinct.” he said.

“Your voice sounds different than I expected.” Pocket couldn’t help herself. “Would mind letting me up? I have a fresh tattoo. I don’t want to pick gravel out of it.”

Hurley stood and then helped her to her feet. He kept a hand on her bicep. Not a grip, just a gentle touch. “We should head back to the cars. There’s still not enough light.”

Trohman, Alien, and Space Cadet were waiting for them. Hurley moved away. Trohman looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You look like my half-sister.”

Pocket looked down and tried to dust some of the gravel off. Anything to distract her from second surge of panic. That was not something she wanted to hear. She frowned, pretending to study the damage to the knees of Alien’s pants. She refused to look up.

“Pocket?” Alien whispered. “Pocket Pistol. Come on, look at me, hun.”

She looked up.

Alien stood right in front of her. Space Cadet’s hand was laced in theirs, but he was standing slightly behind her. He blocked her view of Trohman and Hurley. “You okay?” he asked.

Pocket took a shaking breath.

Alien dropped Cadet’s hand and pulled Pocket down, into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

Pocket stepped back without realising what she was doing. “You called me by my mother’s preferred name.” _There’s no other answer. The Suitehearts are from Gem City. My mother is from Gem City._

“Her mother’s family had the tendency to give all the women the same first name.”

“Ruby.” They said it in unison.

“So, Uncle Joseph?” _Act casual._ Pocket’s head spun at the confirmation. “Joey? Joe? What am I supposed to call you?”

“Horseshoe.”

“Right.” _Focus. Focus. Focus._ She crossed her left arm, gripping the opposite bicep as hard as she could. “Sorry, I’m new to this.”

Blurryface appeared beside her and put one of his hands over the one on her bicep. “Breathe.”

She dropped her bicep and stepped back from him too. “I’m alright,” she lied. Her nails left imprints. The pain didn’t help her calm down. “Running was an involuntary reaction. I have perfectly reasonable worries regarding my personal safety.”

“You sound like your dad. How is he? They moved to Bat shortly after the wedding.”

“Deceased.”

“Oh.”

He looked like he wanted to say more but Pocket was prepared to cut him off. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of nowhere. “Might I suggest we get moving? When the sun’s high enough, Masks patrols start and they’re already aware I’m on the run.”

“What did you do?”

“I—” Pocket knew she’d have to bring up Project Dale eventually but she couldn’t bring herself to say “It’s what they wanted to do to me, actually.” 

“I’m not sure why they’re so intent on locating me,” she lied instead. “I just suspect it won’t be pleasant when they do.”

“ _If_ they do!” Alien corrected sharply. They smacked her left arm. “Don’t be such a pessimist!”

“I’m a realist, not a pessimist.” Pocket stepped away again. “Now isn’t the time to discuss ideological differences. Are we going to Camp Youngblood or not?”

* * *

Pocket knew Camp Youngblood centred an old school but she didn’t know it was about the same style as the antique building that housed The Secondary School of Battery City. Three stores, brick, big windows (although it looked like most of the ones at Youngblood were boarded up). It probably had a creepy old basement. The outbuildings looked no different than the ones in the village in Zone 1.

The vehicle stopped and Pocket tensed. Alien moved to put the scarf back over Pocket’s nose. “You’re going to be okay,” Alien said again.

“Oh, yeah, I just have to tell the defacto leader of the Killjoys I shot off his hand. No big deal.” Pocket’s chuckle fell flat. She was sitting next to the door but her hands wouldn’t listen. They shook instead of pulling the latch to open it. The three other people in her row exited by the other door. Space Cadet opened her door and Blurryface half-caught her as she stumbled. Alien repeated that everything would be okay.

Pocket had no doubt the short man approaching them was Patrick Stump. Not only did he meet every description S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W had on hand, one of his arms ended with a stump. She put her hand over the scarf in shock. _I did that._

“It takes some getting used to,” he said. “You must be Pocket Pistol.”

She didn’t respond. She wanted to look around the compound, take in every detail, catalogue it. Still, every details was something S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, BL/Ind, and possibly the chip from Project Dale could force out of her. She was already worried that they’d assume she was purposeful spy. She’d want to reduce the likelihood of being an accidental spy too.

Horseshoe looked between them and spoke up. “We need to talk to you somewhere private, like Party’s--your office.”

“Right. Blurry, Cadet about _that_ thing?”

“We can talk about it later,” Blurry said. “I think Horseshoe has something more important to talk about.” He looked at Space Cadet and Alien. “You want to go to the basement and contact Hurricane?”

Alien looked at Pocket expectantly. “You okay to talk to him by yourself?”

Pocket nodded. _If he kicks me out, I don’t want them to see._

“I’m fine. It won’t take long.”

“ _You_ need to talk to me?” Stump asked.

“You are the guy who runs this place, right?” she retorted. Talking through the scarf felt weird. She could be wrong, but the replacement of Party with “your” was telling. Benzedrine and the Suitehearts had stepped in Way’s and the Fab Four’s place.

“Yes.”

“Then, yes. I need to talk to you. For your camp’s safety, if anything else.” She adjusted the straps of her survival kit nervously. “It has to do with what Horseshoe has to tell you, actually.”

“Well, this is cryptic. Come on, let’s get this over with. You know I’m not a morning person, Horseshoe.” He led the way toward the school building.

Alien quickly gave Pocket another hug. “Good luck.”

* * *

It didn’t surprise Pocket that Stump led to what would have been the headmaster’s office at the Secondary School. What surprised her was that the classrooms appeared to have converted to small dorms or apartments. She tried to keep her eyes down. There were plenty of pyjama-clad Killjoys and children poking their heads around doors.

A woman with a small child approached them and kissed Horseshoe. Pocket looked away, a blush spreading under the scarf. “Hey, how was it out there?”

“Quiet. Hot. It’s definitely summer.” Horseshoe nudged Pocket. “This is my wife and our daughter Ruby. Honey, this is Pocket Pistol. She’s new.”

 _I have an aunt—and a cousin._ “It’s nice to meet you,” she forced out. Then, she surged to catch back up with Stump. Horseshoe followed casually behind her.

Stump stood at the door to the Headmaster’s office, holding it open. “Well, come in. You said this was important.”

“Man, chill,” Trohman said. “She’s just a kid.”

The door shut behind them. The feeling that she was a kid in a trouble clicked when the lock did. It didn’t look like the headmaster’s office in Battery. The furniture was worn and patched with tape and pictures cluttered the walls and sleeves but the feel was there. Pocket suspected it came from Stump himself.

“So, what’s the danger?” he demanded.

She pulled the scarf over her head and placed it on the desk. Then, she nodded toward his stump. “I’m the one who did that.” She held her breath.

“You’re the danger.” Stump looked at Trohman. “Any reason she looks like your sister?”

“That’s because she’s Amelia and Dominic’s kid.”

“You sure?”

“Well, there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure.” Trohman looked ashamed to admit it. “But it’s a bit more than a passing resemblance.”

“We can see if some of Brobeck’s contacts in The City of Light can run a DNA test.” Stump glared at her. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, from what I remember. Not that I remember much. Blood loss.”

Pocket looked around the room long enough to find a picture of the Fab Four. It had a black ribbon on the corner of the frame. “Them. I left because of them. Them and the girl.”

“How are we are supposed to believe that?”

“You’re not. You’re smart men.”

“Blurry said you one of his people. Was he lying?”

 _The God thing…_ She hadn’t had a chance to think about it, but as she stood there, awkwardly waiting for her fate, she did. The idea of Something—Someone up there listening was tempting. She wanted to get her hands on Blurryface’s books. “No,” she said. “I’m new to it but I like it.”

Stump sighed. “Fine, you can stay. You got a weapon?”

She put her blaster next to the scarf.

“Whoa. Is anyone in camp left-handed?”

“Dude, you’re not taking her weapon.” Trohman spoke up. “She might need it.”

“I don’t need a blaster to protect myself. If turning it over helps you feel safe with me here, so be it.”

Stump slid it into a drawer of the desk and locked it. “She’s your responsibility, Joe. Put an extra cot in your apartment. She’s not going anywhere by herself. Doesn’t have to be you. Just someone. If that blood test comes back negative, she’s gone. You understand, kid?”

“We’re crystal, sir.”

“Good. I need to go back to bed.”

* * *

She didn’t know how she felt about sharing a living space but she followed Trohman outside and to a supply-shed. She shut her brain down to keep from memorising the contents. He went to grab a cot in a box. She noticed him wince a little as he bent over. “I can carry it. Bad back?”

“Perceptive.”

“Mother has one too.” It was bulky but not heavy. “Plus, I’m what ten years younger than you?” She couldn’t remember his birthday off the top of his head.

“How old are you?”

“22, my birthday’s in the fall.”

“Seven.” He held door of the supply shed open for her.

“That makes you eighteen years younger than my mother.”

“Her mother died. Dad married my mom later in life.”

“Oh.”

They stopped at a door with a large horseshoe on it. Trohman looked confused for a few seconds until Trohman explained why Pocket was standing behind him with a cot box. “Your older sister’s kid. Well, since she’s family, I guess I don’t mind.”

Whatever classrooms they had used to be, they had been converted into a two-bedroom apartment. Pocket set up her new cot in a corner of the room with the crib and the baby Ruby. _It’s a good thing I have a new name already,_ she though as she worked.

“What’s your real name?” She hadn’t caught the woman’s codename, if she had one. She hadn’t even heard that Killjoys had significant others. This woman was a mystery. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

 _Never mind_. She had to think fast. “I guess you can call me Becca, if you want. Thank you for letting me stay, ma’am.”

“It’s not ma’am. You can call me Honey.”

“Okay.” This felt awkward. A cramp spread across her stomach and she remembered her period. The blush followed. “Look, I hate to ask, but I need some, uh, feminine items? And probably some different clothes.” She pulled at the collar of Alien’s tank. “These aren’t mine.” 

“I can show you the medical building.”

“That would be great.”


	11. 11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so more like 36 hours. Heathens happened. Sorry.

11

Alien swung themselves into the hidden entrance to Space Cadet and Blurryface’s computer/server rooms and apartment with practiced ease. They didn’t come to Camp Youngblood super often but this was where they usually stayed when they did.

Space Cadet caught them, adding a spin before setting them down. “So, what do you want to do while we wait for Pocket?”

Blurryface pulled out his tablet and booted up the twenty one computers with a single tap. They hummed to life. “Unfortunately, we can’t have time for much fun right now. We need to figure out who that Exterminator ways.” He sat his desk chair and started typing on the nearest keyboard.

Space Cadet sat in his own. “Take a seat anywhere.”

“Are you going to need coffee?” Alien’s first thought was to find some way to help. They didn’t trust themselves to hack. Kitchen stuff they could handle. Not to mention, they both looked bone-tired from the drive. “Food?”

“A, you’re great but you’re a guest. You shouldn’t.”

“No, I’m not. A guest, I mean. My home is probably being overturned by Exterminators as we speak. Unless Benzedrine says Pocket can’t stay, this is our home now.”

“You would go with her?” Space Cadet looked confused.

“I’d have to,” Alien said without hesitation. They didn’t now why exactly but they felt strongly about it. It made them slightly uncomfortable. “Can we talk about something else?”

“I have Hurricane,” Blurryface said. “I’ll pull them up on the big screen.”

 _Hi, Blurry,_ the green letters appeared slowly. _What’s up?_

Blurryface spoke and typed at the same time. “We’re looking for information someone who might be a citizen of Battery City.”

_Got a name?_

Blurryface looked at Space Cadet. “I think The Moon’s real name was Ryan.”

 _We called The Moon,_ Blurry typed. _But Cadet thinks his real name was Ryan._

_I’m going to need a few minutes_

It took more than a few minutes. An image loaded instead of a written message, painfully slow.

“Frick.” Space Cadet said. 

The young man in the picture was completely unfamiliar to Alien. He looked like a normal Battery City citizen, drab haircut, sleeves of a white button down rolled up to the elbows, black slacks. He stood at a table, studying a computer screen. A desk chair with a red blazer hanging on the back was just in frame.

“How old is this?” Blurryface asked.

_I just took it._

The meaning of the confession wasn’t lost on Alien. “The Hurricane is a fucking _S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W_?”

 _Ruby isn’t the only recruit to defect,_ Hurricane wrote before Blurryface could reply. _I choose to play double agent instead of leaving. I’m not even the first. That honour goes to someone named Wakefield. We never met._

Alien felt claustrophobic. The world seemed to have turned fucking upside down the space of a week. The Fab Four fucking dying. Defecting S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws. Their decision to take in one of the defectors. Fucking S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws that used to be Killjoys. A spy-hacker. Too much buzzing from the computers in the room. Space Cadet’s chair rolling squeaking across the floor and his hand on their shoulder. It was all too much.

They stepped away from Space Cadet. “What the fuck is happening to the world?” Their voice cracked painfully.

Blurryface reached over to his tablet and quickly shut down the computers. “Little Alien?”

Alien didn’t like crying but it started anyway. They looked at Blurryface first and then Space Cadet. “I need some air.”

They stepped back, turned, and climbed out the entrance.

* * *

Camp Youngblood, for all it’s residents, felt dead. Alien didn’t know what else to call it. No music or radio broadcasts played over the speakers. For the hours Alien was outside, there weren’t even an announcement. No one seemed to be wandering between the buildings. It might have been the oppressive heat but it also could have been that everyone was still mourning the Fab Four. The Camp felt different without their colourful personalities.

An unbelievably tall Killjoy Alien remembered meeting but couldn’t remember the name of came out from the main apartments. They saw them and approached. “Are you Alien?” they asked.

“Yeah,” Alien answered. “We’ve met. Can’t remember your names or pronouns though.”

“Brobeck, he/him/his.” He held out his hand and they shook. “Your hair was pink then.” 

Brobeck happened to be one of the more mysterious Killjoys. When he was with the main group, he hung with The Sun, and The Earth. When he went off on his own, he acting as the go-between with the sympathisers in The City of Light. Alien didn’t know what that job entailed but they were glad they didn’t have it.

“Yeah. It was pink about this time last year.” Alien crossed their arms. “What can I help you with, Brobeck?”

“Benezedrine asked me to take some blood from a friend of yours called Pocket Pistol but I can’t find her. She was supposed to be with Horseshoe and Honey but their apartment is empty.”

“I don’t know. No one is keeping me in the loop. Everyone seems to think I’m just a kid. I don’t even know who The Moon is.”

“Was.” Brobeck looked sad. “I never met him, but since I spend so much time with The Sun, I’ve gleaned the information. It’s not a secret. It’s also not a story anyone wants to dwell on. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

Alien nodded.

He walked over to one of the picnic tables and sat down. Alien sat opposite, feeling smaller than usual. “It’s been four years. The Sun and The Earth’s group called themselves The Weathervanes. They came from Zone Five.”

Although they were hardly perfect circles, the Zones were a bit like the rings of a tree. Zone One was the closest to the cities and the second-largest in size. Zone Three, as the largest, was the location of Camp Youngblood and where most of the nomads live. From, there the zones got smaller and weirder.

Alien had never to Four, Five, or Six, but they knew the rumours. Malformed trees and cacti, strange wildlife, people born with extra fingers or fused fingers, that for some reason Masks patrolled the Four/Five border the most. The scariest rumour was that once you entered Zone Six, you never came back.

“The Sun and The Earth look so normal.”

Brobeck looked sad. “Most of the people born in the inner zones _are_ normal. Originally, no one lived out there. A powerful bomb poisoned the area with radiation during the last major war. Originally, BL/Ind evacuated the area but about fifty years ago, started shipping people back. Offered them homes and minimal BL/Ind involvement. Only, people started getting sick.”

“What did BL/Ind do?”

“Threw the contracts back in their faces. People will be stuck there, on poisoned ground, for generations. I don’t know how The Weathervanes got out, but it was too late for Pluto.”

“They were already sick?”

Brobeck nodded. “It was a cancer in his blood. The Moon was pretty smart, figured out what was wrong without January. His decision to try to get him to Battery City fractured the Weathervanes. The last anyone heard, The Moon sent a message saying Pluto hadn’t survived and he was going to take the BL/Ind work placement tests.”

Alien took a deep breath. The simple words described the sort of betrayal they didn’t think was possible in the Zones. Who in their right minds would hand themselves over to work for the system that killed their friend?

“Before you curse The Moon to hell and back, remember that grief does funny things to people. We don’t know what he was thinking. For all we know, he could have been given no other option.”

The door to the infirmary building opened. Honey, Horseshoe’s partner, came out, holding their baby. A rather tired-looking Pocket followed. Her hair was wet and she wore a different set of clothes. The simple navy-blue polo had the symbol for the underground clothing company Sandman ran on it. The shorts were very short and bright purple.

“Is that Pocket Pistol?” Brobeck asked.

“Yeah, that’s Pocket.”

Brobeck stood and walked over to the infirmary door. He said something and he and Pocket stepped back into the infirmary.

Alien jumped to their feet and followed.

“I don’t care if you don’t think I should, ma’am,” Pocket said to January, the stern woman who acted as Camp Youngblood’s nurse. “It’s _my_ blood. If I want Brobeck to take a vial of it to Sin City, I should be able to.”

“There’s no reason to do it. You’re on your cycle. Extra blood loss—”

“One tiny vial isn’t going to kill me.” Pocket crossed her arms. “And periods don’t make women loose _that_ much blood.”

“Fine. Let me get the supplies.” January threw up their arms in surrender and 

Alien didn’t want to speak up but they did. “What’s going on?”

“Alien, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Seriously, you didn’t think of me at all?”

“I’ve been a little busy processing the whole I have an uncle thing.” Pocket started squeezing her bicep again. “I should have come to you before I came here. Sorry, Alien. I didn’t realise you would worried.”

Alien sighed good naturedly. “I don’t know why I bother with you sometimes, you silly city girl. Just remember to check in next time.”

January came out from the supply room, carrying some stuff Alien wasn’t sure of the purpose of. All they could positively identify was a needle. The colour drained from their face.

“You don’t have to watch, Alien,” Pocket said. “It should only take a few minutes.”

Alien took at as invitation to leave.

“If you get the chance,” Brobeck called after them. “Could you please tell Sun and Earth I’m going to be gone a few days? I’m taking this blood to The City of Light.”

* * *

Pocket came out of the infirmary a few minutes later, gauze wrapped around the crock of her right elbow. She had a BL/Ind Electrolyte Beverage in her left hand and a small handful of pills in her right. “Vitamins.” She unscrewed the cap of drink and swallowed them.

Alien laughed at her grimace. “That bad?”

“Fucking cherry saltwater.” She finished it. “Garbage? Compost? What do Killjoys do with their waste anyway?”

“They didn’t teach you that?”

“S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W is focused on the capturing and killing side of things. Ross is pretty good at the cultural side of it but it’s nothing Korse or our other trainers made us learn.”

“The waste goes over here.” Alien took the bottle and led Pocket to the line of rainbow trashcans by The Sun, the Earth, and Brobeck’s bunkhouse. “This is plastic so it goes in the red bin. Each one is for a different thing. Prof gets upset if someone messes up but it doesn’t matter. Every so often someone sneaks a load to a BL/Ind facility and they all get mixed together.”

“Okay.”

The Sun poked his head out from the doorway of their bunkhouse. “What are you two doing outside in this heat? Also, new girl. Great.”

“Hi, Sun. This is Pocket Pistol. She came to us via from Battery City. Pocket Pistol, I’m guessing you’ve heard of The Sun.”

“Yeah.” She tensed. “Him I’ve heard of.”

“Hey, Pistol. Nice to meet you. Come in.”

They followed him into the space. Alien laughed as Pocket Pistol’s eyes widened.

The duo formerly known as half of the Weathervanes did not keep a neat space. There were instruments, clothes, face paint, make up, blasters, and just about anything else a Killjoy could want or need scattered about the space. The only clean spot was the corner where Brobeck must sleep when he was staying at camp.

Speaking of Brobeck…“Brobeck is running something to The City of Light,” Alien said. “He’ll be gone for a couple days.”

“Something?”

“Something.”

The Earth was watching Pocket. “Are you okay?”

Pocket blinked a couple times. “Yeah, sorry. Heat must have idled my brain.”

The Sun laughed. “You’ve never seen some of this stuff before you?”

“It looks you have more contraband than S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W seizes in a fucking month.” Pocket reached toward the Earth’s drums but quickly stopped herself.

“Hun, you’re wearing contraband.” Alien loved the nervous energy coming off Pocket. She was trying—and failing—to seem reserved.

Pocket looked down and lifted her new shirt away from her body. “Right. The Clandestine Factory.”

Everyone else laughed.

The Sun stood between them and wrapped his arms over their shoulders. “Welcome to Camp Youngblood, Pistol. Where everything is contraband and anything goes!”


	12. 12.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are basically ZERO bandom characters in this Chapter. ~~unless you count yet another jonas~~ Anyway, enjoy the introduction of a villain.

12

Benne woke up to an empty apartment and a beeping wall unit. He unfolded himself from the chair and walked over to it. A message, the sender listed as Frangipane, A. N., took up the entire screen. It was flagged as urgent.

_Have you heard from George?_

Benne looked around the room. The only sign he had a visitor was the blanket folded over one of the arms of the sofa. Could he describe what happened via text? He started typing but before he could hit send, another message popped up.

_Never mind. He just came in. Korse is going to tear him a new one. Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you that Ruby’s case has been declared a kidnapping via brainwashing._

_I know. Dr. Herrick told me._

_You know the current head of Experimental Medicine?_

_I got a new placement._ Benne looked at the time in the corner of the screen. It was 6:35. _I have to go to work. Thank you for keeping me updated._

He wore his scrubs, more as default than anything. He didn’t know if Experimental had a uniform. The scrubs were comfortable, and because he had slept in them, he didn’t need to change before running out the door. He just grabbed his new security pass and his bag, then booked it down all the stairs.

He ran past the Mask working security, flashed the pass across the scanner, and slid into the elevator. Dr. Herrick was standing in it. She raised an eyebrow. “Cutting it a little close, Benne?”

“Sorry, ma’am, Dr. Herrick, Helena. I had an unusual evening.”

“Yes, I was about to message you.” She blocked the buttons. “It seems a little unreasonable of me to expect you to transition to day shift in one night. You should probably go home. Eat something.” She wrinkled her nose. “Shower.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a lapse in judgement on my part.” She pressed the open door button. “Go home, Ben. And after you clean up, buy yourself some dress clothes, if you don’t already have them. You won’t be needing scrubs often. Come back tomorrow.”

“Yes. Okay. I can do that.” Almost dazed, he stepped out of the elevator. He swiped his identification again, this time to check out. He nearly stumbled back onto the streets of Battery City.

His brain automatically thought of the question Ross asked him the night before. _You ever been outside the walls, Williams?_ He hadn’t. Usually, he found the faint purple tone the enviro-dome gave the sunlight soothing. In this moment, it felt different. He looked up, eyes hunting for the apex. He discovered that most of the buildings in this district were too high. He sighed. The only place the buildings would be short enough would be were the executives lived. He had no reason to go there.

He sighed and let his feet take him to nearest tram. He didn’t take public transport often. Ruby preferred travelling by foot and he didn’t care for the idea of being in an enclosed place with that much potential for germs. Still, it was the fastest way to where he wanted to go.

The Slums.

He hadn’t been there since that fateful afternoon when he was seven. He stepped off the tram and onto the cobblestones. Hardly anything changed in twenty years, besides the style of the graffiti. The buildings—all walk ups—didn’t even seem shorter. He ran a hand over the white washed brick of the nearest building. It looked empty.

Just above where he rested his hand, someone had spray painted a large, stylized spider with a 4 in the middle. Above it, the words “Killjoys Never Die” took up the entire width of the wall. He touched the paint. It was still wet.

“Fucking hoodlums,” an old man grumbled. “We have no need for this nonsense inside the walls.”

“Oh?”

“These kids will learn that Killjoys do die. BL/Ind may make miracles but even they can’t stop death.” He adjusted his glasses and looked Benne up and down. “You some sort of nurse, boy?”

“Yeah, I’m some sort of nurse, sir.”

“You seen anyone die?” He had the look of a factory worker who worked until mandatory retirement. Worn out and worn down.

“Yes, sir.”

“How many?”

“I stopped counting at twenty five, sir, two years ago.” That was when the tests and trainers thought he was only suited to being a paramedic in an ambulance. Since he went Advanced and moved to the ED it lessened but it still happened.

“Death’s pretty permanent, right?”

“We try, sir. Hearts can be restarted but once the brain goes, there’s not much hope.”

“That’s what these boys need to learn. Death stops everything.”

“I don’t think that’s what they mean by Killjoys Never Die, sir.” Benne looked thoughtfully at the graffiti. It reminded him of some comments Ruby had made over the years. “They honestly believe that Killjoy ideals will endure, no matter what.”

“And what are those ideals? Murder? Mayhem? Dying from heat and cold?”

“That’s what they’re willing to do for those ideals. I’m not an expert but Killjoys’ value their individuality. They believe Better Living Industries, with all its scientific studies on the importance of uniformity, is wrong.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “The name Killjoys started as what they called BL/Ind.”

“You sound like a sympathizer.”

Benne laughed. “I’m not. I’m just another public employee.”

“I heard rumours Killjoys took someone a few weeks. Some lawmaker’s kid.”

“Yeah, they did.” He kicked a piece of garbage. “I know her. I understand how they work but I don’t like it.”

“They need to be destroyed.”

“They need to be reformed. There are prisons, programs, and pills for a reason, sir. No one should be considered beyond hope.” Benne looked at his watch. Almost 11. His stomach grumbled. He might as well try to find something to eat. There used to be a sandwich shop around here somewhere. “I need to go.”

* * *

He found a kid before he found the shop. He looked about thirteen but he obviously wasn’t where he was supposed to be. He looked right at Benne and narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing in this part of town, Doc?”

“Wandering.”

“That’s fancy talk for lost, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Benne rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it is. I used to live here but everything’s changed.”

The kid pointed down the street. “The tram stop is three blocks that way.”

“Thanks. Why are you not at school?”

“My parents don’t care. They’re too busy using all our carbons on BL/Ind drugs. I couldn’t renew my tram pass.”

_The tram costs next to nothing, even for factory workers. They must be addicts_. “Well, your teachers care, right?”

The kid snorted. “Yeah, right. Do you know how many kids are in my math class alone? Seventy five. Seventy six, I guess. But I’m not there.”

“Seventy five?”

“When you have low scores, they put you the bigger classes.”

“Oh. What’s your name?”

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“I don’t think S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W cares about the average truant.”

“What if I wasn’t the average kid that skipped school?” He pulled his hands of the pockets of his school-uniform blazer. They were stained with black paint. “I overheard you talking with Old Man Jenkins. I followed you until I got bored. How do you know so much about Killjoys?”

“My girlfriend.” It felt weird to still refer to Ruby by that title but saying her name suddenly felt weird to say. “How do you?”

“They help me, sometimes. That’s where I got the paint. From The Earth.” He jammed his hands back into his pockets, and moved his elbow, using it point to a nearby wanted poster. “They offered to take me in but I don’t have the heart to leave my parents.” 

Benne thought about what he was about to say for a good minute before he said it. “The monthly tram pass is what? Twenty carbons?” He knew that was an over-estimate but if got the kid food on top of getting him to school, Benne didn’t care.

The kid snorted. “I don’t want your charity, Doc.”

“It’s Benne. And it’s not charity. Do you have any more paint?”

“Plenty. I keep it behind a broken dumpster BL/Ind never moves. You want me to mark something for you?”

“Do you know what a ruby looks like?”

“Big red gem. I don’t have red paint, just black.”

“Black is fine.” He pulled the carbons out of his pants’ pocket. “Twenty carbons in exchange for you painting a gem wherever you want and going back to school tomorrow. Deal?”

The boy took the change. His grin showed that he knew he was getting the better end of the deal. “Deal. My name is Tristian. You can call me 76.”

“Alright, 76. If you ever need extra carbons, go to the hospital and ask for Benne Williams in Experimental. I’m sure I can come up with something for you to do.”

* * *

Benne went to work the next day in the only dress clothes he had. Black pants, a white button down shirt, and a black tie. He made it to the elevator fifteen minutes before he was supposed to be in Helena’s office. Somehow, she met him in the elevator.

“I was watching the security cameras,” she explained before he could ask. “You seem better today.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” After he had helped 76, he continued walking around the Slums until his stomach got the better of him. He found a noodle shop, ate a surprisingly good meal, and then went home. He slept better than he had since Ruby disappeared.

Dr. Herrick used her key to make the elevator go down to the subbasement where the Experimental offices were.

“Dr. Smith said you don’t have any patients right now?”

“Unfortunately, our last human subject passed on and the one I had lined up to replace him backed out at the last minute. Better Living Industries has requested we move on to another product.”

“Am I allowed to know what you were testing?”

“It’s not important. I warned Better Living Industries that it was a dangerous project.” The doors opened and Helena walked forward purposefully. “But I can tell you what our next project is.” Her heels clicked against the flooring.

The door looked imposing. Solid metal with “H. H. Head of Department” painted on it. “Your office has the same type of door. Better Living Industries takes our security and safety seriously. If Killjoys ever attack the hospital, or Battery City’s tunnel system, we’ll be a target.”

Benne didn’t know what to take out of that statement so he settled for a shocked, “My _office_ , ma’am?”

“Yes, your office, Ben. It’s right across from mine.”

He looked across the hall. The door was almost identical to hers, down to the font size. Instead of her name, it read “Dr. Ben Williams, Patient Affairs.”

“Ma’am, I’m twenty-seven. I can’t have the title of Doctor yet.”

“The subjects won’t trust you if you don’t have the title. I pulled some strings.” 

“Also, it’s Benne, not Ben.”

As the complicated locking mechanism on her door unlocked and it swung in, she patted his cheek. “Benne sounds awfully childish, doesn’t it? Trust me. You’ll get used it.”

Her office looked perfectly normal. She reached over to the PA system and switched it on. “Charles, Rose, Ben is here. If you mind reporting to my office for a team meeting?”

A man and woman, both dressed in professional clothing, appeared. “Charlie Hover,” the man said. “Nurse.”

“Rosemary Smoke. I’m new too. Technology and gizmos.” She had a slight accent.

“Speaking of new, who is our replacement liaison with S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W?”

“Special Agent Jonas, the oldest one. Kevin. Apparently yet another one got placed with them this week.” She adjusted her glasses. “They gave him the same office Anders had so I don’t need to reprogram the call buttons. I’m just waiting for the okay with the firewall update and I’ll be able to turn the computers back on.”

“We’re working without technology?”

“BL/Ind has stopped us cold,” Dr. Herrick said. “Pending an investigation into our security breach. The person responsible hasn’t been caught.”

“Oh.”

“Rose, can you give Ben a tour? We have an excellent physical library to fall back on until the Joint Governing Committee allows us access to the Better Living Industries digital archives again. I would suggest on reading up on memory. I need to make a few phone calls, see if we can get the ball rolling on our next project.”

Benne nodded. Rosemary gently touched his shoulder arm. “This way.”

“So, that’s your office,” Rose said. “I’ll make showing you how to open the door our last thing. And that’s mine. Charlie doesn’t have one, exactly. He normally chills in the patient area.”

The office-like hall widened into what could be any ward of the hospital above them. “We have three patient rooms,” Rosemary explained. “The double doors allegedly lead to the operating theatre. I’m not allowed in there. You can take a look around if you want. I’ll wait.”

“Operating rooms are pretty straightforward. I can look around later.”

“Cool.” Rosemary led the way further into the tunnel. They walked in silence for several minutes until they came to a door that looked like it had more security than the offices. “This is the best research library on the continent,” Rosemary said reverently. “Some of the books in here are older than BL/Ind.”

“That explains the mound of legal paperwork.” The door, despite all the locks, looks innocent.

Rosemary laughed and started typing on the keyboard next to the door. Something popped out above it. She set her thumb on it, gasped, and then put her thumb in her mouth. “Apparently the prick takes some getting used to.”

“It does a DNA test?”

“Yep.” A little light flashed from blue to green. “It’s sanitized. Your turn. Just type your name and birthday. You can use any finger.”

Benne gulped but took her space at the keyboard. He typed what she told him to and then put a finger on the thing. A minuscule needle poked it. He jumped slightly. “Is all the security _really_ necessary?”

“BL/Ind seems to think so.” Rosemary shrugged. “People from outside of the Medical Placement come down here to access it too. We get all sorts from Headquarters.”

The door opened.

Rosemary stepped in first. “Welcome to Nerd Paradise, Dr. Williams.”


	13. 13.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brutal. I'm not sorry. It was in outline. It's what I wanted to do. I'm not nice to my characters. And sometimes they aren't nice to each other. Also, don't abuse drugs, kiddos. Although if there's an actual underage person reading this, what are you doing here? This is rated M. Oh well. Don't tell your parents.
> 
> And please remember that Pocket has suicidal ideations. It comes up again at the end of this one.
> 
> Stay Safe,
> 
> August

13

The Sun’s impromptu tour of Camp Youngblood made Pocket’s head hurt. The reports of his over-the-top personality were not falsified. Trying to act like she was paying attention, while actively struggling to not mentally catalogue the entire conversation, _and_ keeping up with The Sun was exhausting. Alien shot her a couple worried glances but neither of them spoke.

“And this is Prof’s domain. The greenhouse.”

“Purple-house,” The Professor corrected. “We use the same technology as the Cities and the farm domes.”

Pocket didn’t know if it was burst of relatively cool air or what, but the world wobbled as she stepped into the building.

The Professor caught her before she fell. “Alright?”

“I’m not usually clumsy.”

“Sit.” Despite them being nearly the same height, he lifted her onto the nearest empty potting bench. “Alien, there’s a drinking water drum at the centre of the building.”

“I’m on it.”

“I’m not dehydrated.”

Alien took a few minutes to run to the back and return. “Fucking bullshit, Pocket. Seriously. Slow sips.” They practically slammed the little plastic cup into her hand. “How many times I am going to have to go through this with you? In the Zones, you have to hydrate.”

It was true that Alien had to remind her to drink every couple of hours her first couple of days with them. It didn’t change that she shouldn’t be tripping so much. “So, I’m not used to the heat yet. Arrest me. I’d never spent longer than a BL/Ind Emergency Pack is supposed to last outside the walls before I defected.”

The Sun pulled himself up to sit beside her. “Oh, really? You know, not everyone is given access to those kits.”

She took a sip of water. “I know.”

“How did you get access to them?”

“Legally. I was authorised for purchase.” She took another sip. “Well, I stole the last one. I’m not sure who it belonged to. I’ll have to look at the bag.”

“ _Authorised for purchase_ ,” the Sun repeated. 

“Yes. That means I filed a bunch of paperwork at the Controlled Merchandise Office. I know their paperwork so well, I _should_ have gotten a placement there.”

“Are you still authorised?”

“I doubt it.” She finished the water. “And even if I was, I am not risking getting caught inside a city. You’ll have to keep getting your contraband via smuggling.” She wanted to change the subject before The Sun got around to asking what she did in Battery. “So, Professor, sir. How does everything work in here?”

The entire set up of The Purple House fascinated Pocket. Everything from miniature fruit trees to tubers in pots thrived in the miniature version of the BL/Ind climate dome. The Professor and a couple other Killjoys even tried growing plants in flowing water tubes. Pocket spent over three hours asking questions. The Sun had left within a few minutes of the conversation starting. Alien hang back slightly.

The Professor apparently wasn’t miss-named. She thought he’d get annoyed but he seemed to enjoy teaching her.

“You know, I’m surprised you’re interested in plants,” Alien said finally. “I thought you had a one-track mind.”

“I love collecting information, on anything. I was focused on one goal in Battery City because I had to be.” She reached out to touch a not-quite-mature lemon. “I wish I could take pictures. There’s so much to take in.”

“Why can’t you take pictures?” Alien asked. “I’m sure we can find you a camera.”

Pocket gave Alien the best “You-know-the-fuck-why” look she could manage.

“I hate repeating myself but I need you to set this into that pretty little head of yours.” Alien stepped Pocket and the small tree. “You are not a fucking danger to anyone here. Life out here is dangerous, yeah, but you don’t add to it. You changed. If you want to express your fucking creativity by taking a fuckload of pictures, then we’ll get you a fucking camera.”

Pocket stepped back and held her hands up. _You have no idea_. “Alien, I think I know me better than you.”

“Are you telling me you think you’re thinking about going back and telling those fucks everything?” Alien poked her the chest.

“No!” She was trying to keep her head level. The last thing she needed was for her fight training to kick in. “I’m saying I have no idea what I’d do if they captured me. I’ve had some of the interrogation techniques used on me for fun. Only it wasn’t so fun!”

“Well, you could always go down fucking fighting!”

“They want me alive, Alien!” They were both screaming. Pocket braced herself for Alien to throw the first punch. “I can’t tell you why but trust me! They want me alive!”

“What are you hiding then? How am I supposed to trust you when you don’t trust me?”

“You really really don’t want to know!” _They want to experiment on me!_ her brain yelled almost as loudly. _They want to control everything about me! And I’m not the first!_

“Girls!” The Professor got between them. “Sorry, Alien. Slip up. Both of you, _fucking_ chill!”

They were both breathing heavily.

“You need to go to separate spaces. Now.”

“I’m not allowed to go anywhere by myself, sir.” Pocket struggled to slow her breathing and turn her tone down. “Benzedrine’s orders.”

“I’ll walk to The Sun and The Earth’s place,” The Professor said. “Alien, you go to Blurryface and Space Cadet. You’re both exhausted. Get some rest, some food.”

Alien opened their mouth to protest.

“No fucking buts, A. The past couple days have been hard on both of you. Go.”

“Come find me when you’re willing to open up.” Alien stormed out, slamming the door behind them.

Pocket couldn’t make herself look at The Professor. “I’m sorry, sir.” She ran a hand down her face, expecting sweat. Instead, she discovered she was crying.

He nodded and starting steering her toward the exit. “You’re scared. I can understand that.”

The Earth looked surprised when The Professor greeted him with a firm, “Don’t let her go anywhere until she’s slept.”

“Hi, Prof. Pistol?”

She ran her hand under nose. “Hello, Earth.”

“Are you alright?”

“Do you want me to lie?” Pocket felt utterly defeated. No one had thrown punches but that was easily the worst fight she had ever gotten in. “Because I’m sick of it.”

“Well, it’s kind of obvious you’re not. I guess you can take Brobeck’s bed.”

“Thanks.” She stepped in as he stepped aside to let her in. “Sorry again, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Just don’t forgot to apologise to Alien. I need to get back to work.” He walked away.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no.” Pocket normally wasn’t the sort to down BL/Ind pills. Still, her hands were shaking again and she couldn’t think of anything else to stop them. “You do have any Sleep or Calm on hand?”

“Yeah.” He started looking through a couple of drawers. He held up two bottles, a look of triumph on his face. “Which one do you want?”

“Both.” _Fuck it._ “Both is good.”

“Okay…” He plopped two pills, one baby blue and the other lavender, into her hand.

“Drugs, the only thing in Battery City with any colour.” She downed them dry. “Goodnight, Earth.”

* * *

She came to, not to The Earth or The Sun or even Brobeck nearby. Instead, it was a very concerned Blurryface and Horseshoe and an equally pissed-off-looking Benzedrine. Her head pounded. _So that’s why you’re not supposed to mix Sleep and Calm_ , she thought.

“You should have told me BL/Ind wants to cut you open!”

Pocket held a hand to her head. The afternoon sun streamed through the building’s only window. It only made the headache worse. “Oh, no.”

Blurryface had a bucket under her chin just before she puked. “I told you Earth said she took some stuff, Benzedrine. Go easy.”

“You know about Project Dale?” she choked out.

“Barely,” Blurryface admitted. “There’s a lot of weird stuff in your S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W file.”

“Personnel or Suspect?”

“Suspect.”

“Fuck, that was fast.” She waved off Blurryface’s offer of a hand up and stood by herself. “I guess you want me to go?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. I _lied_ to you for fuck’s sake.” Maybe it was the drugs or the heat but it seemed like Blurryface moved to block the exit.

“I don’t know much about million-carbon microchips but it sounds like a virtual death warrant. You’re staying.”

“What if I want to go? If you haven’t noticed, my only friend and I had a row. It would be for the best.”

“If you’re anything like your dad, you have every inch of this compound memorised.”

She narrowed her eyes. _No. They are not going there._

“You looked so much like Amelia at first glance. But you have his eyes. And you’re taller than Amelia,” Horseshoe, who Pocket had almost forgotten was there, said. “They visited all the time, when Dominic got transferred to Battery City. They never mentioned having another kid after Elizabeth died. They stopped visiting when I was eleven.”

“I don’t appreciate being—” _Wait, what?_ “Did you just call me ‘another kid’?” 

“You didn’t know?”

“My father died when I was four and my mother is emotionally distant what do you fucking think?” She looked at Blurryface. “Tyler, I like you, but please move away from the door. I need to get out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Patrick, it might be a good idea to let her get some air. It’s a lot to process.”

“We agreed—”

“She stays, whether she wants to or not.” Horseshoe cut him off. “We did not agree to keep her confined to one room. Unless you want to lock her in the cells in the basement?”

Pocket’s hands started shaking. She clentched them, fingernails digging into her palms. The pain cleared her head just enough for her to be able to say, “If I promise to stay within your outer perimeter fence, may I please have a few fucking hours to myself?”

Benzedrine and Horseshoe shared a look. They nodded. “I’m sorry, Horseshoe said. I thought you knew.”

As soon as Blurryface cleared the doorway, she bolted.

* * *

_I am the Zones’ biggest coward. Running. Always running._

She kept her promise and stayed with Camp Youngblood’s fence. In fact, she stayed right against it. She decided running along it made an excellent conditioning exercise. Unfortunately, running did nothing to shut off her thoughts.

_I have an uncle. He’s a Killjoy with a wife and a baby._

_I yelled at the only real friend I have._

_My parents had a daughter before me. They went to Gem multiple times before Daddy kil—died._

_I yelled at the only real friend I have._

_I probably shouldn’t be running in this heat with a dangerous mix of BL/Ind chemicals in my system._

_I yelled at the only real friend I have._

_You know, for somewhere S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W can’t even locate from helicopters, this place is huge. And I thought I didn’t need any more proof that they’re idiots._

“Fuck. I yelled at the only real friend I have,” she said allowed when she realised she couldn’t make a full lap of the fence in this heat. “Fuck. They’re never going to forgive me, especially since they’ve probably been told about Project Dale.”

Pocket sat in the nearest shade. It looked like an antique pre-electric bus that hadn’t been able to move in ages. She went to lean against the large tire, only to discover the metal burned. “Shit, this was not one of my smarter ideas.”

“You know what they say about talking yourself in the Cities?” Blurryface appeared from around the front of the bus. He held out a water bottle.

“Go see a doctor and take some pills.” She took the bottle and took a couple slow sips.

“Actually, yes.”

She laughed flatly and continued drinking. “I don’t normally take drugs, but my ex is in Medical. I know the spiel.”

He sat down beside her, cross-legged. “So, am I allowed to say you look like heck?”

“Am I allowed to tell you it’s weird that you don’t fucking swear?”

“Touché.”

“I have no fucking clue what that means.”

“Me neither.”

They both laughed.

“Alien’s worried.” Blurryface casually took the water bottle back, took a sip, and then handed it back. “I’ve never seen them get attached to someone as fast as they had to you.”

Pocket shrugged. “They saved my life. I should be the one that got attached.”

Blurryface sat there, patiently.

Pocket’s eyes settled on the rubber band on his wrist. She spoke to it. “I left Battery City thinking maybe I’d find this place. I only had enough supplies to last a few days. I made it seven.”

Blurryface didn’t move.

“You probably dug up how my father died.”

Still nothing from the Killjoy.

Pocket looked up at him, held her pointer and middle fingers under her chin, and moved her thumb like it was a trigger. “I had my blaster. I was thinking about it. I’m not sure how but they knew. They knew.”

Blurryface, still without saying a word, pulled her against him as the tears started again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and can you believe we're at over 30,000 words? I've done NaNoWriMo before so this is nothing but this will end up being much longer than a WriMo project.


	14. 14.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gender dyshoria, internal monologue, Taco Day, forgiveness, and stuff we already know, oh my!

14

Alien had a lot more they wanted to yell at Pocket when Prof firmly told them to leave. Like how they trusted her. That trust was a two-way street. That they had literally opened their home and their arms to her and she was spitting on it. How all it would take was one honest conversation and everything would be okay.

They wanted to yell at Prof too. They weren’t tired or hungry and the past couple days weren’t difficult. It was just the way life worked. Still, Prof’s word was law, had been even when the Fab Four were in charge. He only showed his strength when he had to but they remember Pocket admitting she couldn’t take him.

Which explained why she seemed to turn meek.

Alien wanted to yell at her for that too. _Let us help you! Tell us what happened to you! You don’t have to be scared of us!_

“Go.” Prof ordered.

They stomped to the entrance to Space Cadet and Blurryface’s space. They swung in through the window. Both Space Cadet and Blurryface were looking up at them before they dropped from the bar. “What?”

“When did you sleep last?” Space Cadet asked.

“Seriously?” Then, Alien remembered the mini-farm dome and the main building were pretty close. They dropped to the mat. “You heard us.”

“I had no idea you could scream so loudly.”

The two men shared a look. A look Alien hated. One of their silent conversations. “You know something. You know why she really left.”

They looked away from each other and them.

Great, now they had to be mad at their best friends. “You knew this wasn’t a change of heart and you didn’t tell me?”

Space Cadet sighed and looked at Blurryface.

Blurryface nodded and spoke. “Hurricane knows Pocket pretty well. The change is real. There were just other factors as well.”

“Speaking of other people we apparently can’t trust, have you forgotten they admitted they’re active-duty S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W?”

“We’ve been working with them for years. Which reminds me, I probably need to tell Benzedrine about that.” Blurryface got off his chair. “I’ll be back.” He went further into the basement, headed for the internal stairs.

“Are you going to tell me what she’s hiding?” Alien tried to glare at Space Cadet.

Space Cadet looked nervous. “Do you want me to?”

Alien almost asked why he thought that question was necessary. Then, they thought about it. They sank onto the mat. “No. I want her to tell me herself. I want her to trust me.”

He sat down beside them. “You want to cuddle?”

Alien shrugged.

“That isn’t a yes or no.”

That’s when Alien realised they were exhausted. Prof was right. They yawned. “Actually, Cadet, I need a nap.”

“Want company?”

They didn’t have the energy to blush at the (hopefully accidental) innuendo. They stood. “No. I need the other type of space.”

“Goodnight. Use my room. I can share with Blurry. I’m here if you need me.”

They smiled. “Night, Cadet.” _Love you._

* * *

Alien didn’t fall asleep right away. They stared at the ceiling of the underground room for a good hour. It was nice to have their binder off. Binding was never fun in this heat but neither was chest dysphoria. At least they were lucky they were small everywhere. They sighed.

It felt like they had known Pocket for months, but as they sat in the dark underground room, they remembered it hadn’t even been a week yet. Why were they so attached to her? It taken months for Alien to get attached to Party Poison and nearly a year to get used to Blurryface and Space Cadet’s visits. What was it some stupid crush? Alien didn’t think they were interested in girls like that before this.

They thought about Space Cadet. Now, _that_ was a crush. Maybe they were polyamorous? Pan and polyamorous.

But no. They didn’t like Pocket like that. They worried about the stupid city girl with too much hair. Blurryface compared her to a stray (was that really only this morning?). That was accurate. She was like a frightened dog—no a cat. Definitely a cat. The average dog in the Zones didn’t bite. Pocket bit.

Well, hopefully not literally.

Maybe Alien simply spent too much time alone and attached themselves to whatever was closest. That had to be it. Alien must have some disorder BL/Ind liked to give people pills for. Instant Attachment to Girls with Lost Eyes Syndrome. Yeah. Totally a thing. There was no other explanation.

Oh, who were they kidding? Of course, there was another explanation. They were fucking lonely and Pocket stumbled upon The House at just the right time. Fucking chance. The eyes had been a part of it, yeah, but Alien like the company. It could have been anyone and the same thing would happen.

Which is how they had forgotten, earlier, that Pocket was a stranger. Pocket didn’t know how Alien ended up a Killjoy. Alien didn’t feel obligated to tell her shit. Was it really fair that they expected to know every detail of Pocket’s life?

 _She’s S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W,_ an intrusive thought growled in the back of their mind. _Of course it’s fair. She could have killed you or turned you in. Dead parents don’t compare to that._

Alien didn’t want to think anymore. Their head was starting to hurt. They groaned. “Whatever. I’ll sort it out later.”

Sleep took them slowly and then all at once.

* * *

Even though Space Cadet and Blurryface took up several rooms in the main building’s basement, those rooms were cramped. It wasn’t messy like the Earth and The Sun’s place. They just owned a lot of stuff. Alien woke up with their nose almost touching the front of Cadet’s bass drum. They hadn’t slept well but they didn’t remember the nightmares. That was as good as it got, most times.

 _No use being lazy_. They rolled over to the only clear floor space and stretched. Then, they exited to the main room.

Space Cadet had fallen asleep on the mat below the window entrance. He didn’t appear to have moved. They laughed.

He sat up, red hair sticking up oddly and snapback nowhere to be seen.

“What would you have done if Blurry came back through there?” they teased.

Cadet held up his tablet. “Blurry is meeting us at the Mess Hall whenever you’re ready.”

“Why the mess hall?” Not that Alien didn’t mind eating in the building on the other side of the farm dome. It was just that Blurry and Cadet kept a well-stocked kitchenette for when the hacking got too intense to leave alone.

“It’s Taco Day.”

“You know I’ve been here for one of these mysterious Taco Days, right?” Alien had heard of tacos but apparently they could only be made at Camp Youngblood. Something about using things fresh from their little farm dome. Cadet and Blurry tried to explain what a taco was multiple times. It flew right over their head. They assumed it was like a sandwich but with more produce.

“Hence the trip to the Mess Hall.” Cadet stood and offered Alien his elbow. “Shall we?”

* * *

Tacos were _nothing_ like sandwiches. If Alien had to describe them, it would be like someone wrapped meat, seasoned and mashed beans, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and some mysterious sauce in bread that more-closely resembled a blanket than a loaf.

“I don’t understand why they’re so good,” Alien said. “Why are they so good? They’re so fucking simple.”

“Night Shade’s aunt’s secret seasoning and sauce.” Instead of the blanket-like bread (a tortilla, Cadet called it), Cadet was eating his from a crunchy shell made of ground corn. “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W probably wouldn’t even be able to force it out of him.”

Various Killjoys had been trickling into the mess hall in pairs and trios for nearly an hour. Alien had eaten three tacos so far. They set their fourth taco back on their plate when they saw the doors open again and Blurryface come in. They moved to wave him over.

Then, they saw Pocket shielding herself mostly-behind him.

Blurry walked over to them and Pocket followed. She took a deep breath. “Little Alien, I would like to apologise. There was no excuse for me getting upset earlier. You had every right to demand the truth.”

Alien didn’t know what to say. They thought about getting up and going around the table but Pocket looked closed off. “It’s okay. We talk about it later. When there’s less people around. Get something to eat and sit the fuck down. No point in you just standing there.”

She scrambled off towards the buffet line.

“You handled that well.”

“Yeah. I did.” Alien sounded surprised, even to their own ears.

“She’s going to tell you.” Blurry sat down. “Oh, and Benzedrine has put her on lockdown.”

“I know. She told Prof she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without an escort?”

“No. I mean she’s not allowed to leave. If she tries, he’ll lock her in the cells. For her own safety as much as ours.”

“Fuck.” Alien looked over to where Pocket was talking with Night Shade. She looked both confused and eager. He was probably trying to explain how tacos worked. “I know she’s not harmless, but she looks it.”

She came back, carrying two plates. She set one down in front of Blurry. “Apparently Sp—Night Shade, knows how you like this?” She looked at her own plate.

Alien chuckled. The expression was almost impossible to describe. “Is something wrong?”

“The substance that is allegedly beans bares a striking resemblance to Power Pup. I’m concerned.”

Everyone in the general vicinity laughed.

Pocket blushed and sat down between Cadet and Blurry.

* * *

Later, in the computer server room, Pocket sat in Blurry’s chair. Her posture looked like someone had replaced her spine with a metal rod. “I would rather you did not interrupt me. Is that an acceptable condition?”

Alien pulled themselves onto the top of one of the tables. “As long as you loosen up a little. The formal-talk is fucking weird.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry. Force of habit.” Pocket’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “This feels like that time I had to explain to Mother why Benne and I kissed the day I finished school. I am not allowed to speak casually around her.”

“I want to hear that story but not right now. What happened in Battery City?”

“You know I’m the one that shot off Benzedrine’s hand, right?”

Alien nodded.

“Well, I think it started because of that. You see, S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W listed it as a fatality. Every time a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W kills someone, they have to have their mental state tested. My file got flagged for something and looking back I’m not surprised I failed...”

Alien listened to the entire story without commenting.“And then you saved me.”

“BL/Ind has the ability to control minds directly?”

“I think so. Honestly, computers, microchips, and that shit aren’t my thing. It sounds like they’re _trying_ to do it. Mostly, it just kills people.”

“You didn’t mention that people are _dying_ because of this.”

“Everyone else is already dead.” Blurry came out from his room. “She’s the last one. There’s only one chip left. All the other people died, destroying the chips too.”

“BL/Ind is going to kill you?”

Pocket definitely wasn’t a fan of eye contact. “I don’t think that’s their intention. Not everyone takes the pills. With something like an implant, it would be easier to control those people. And there’s no laws to stop it. In fact, there’s a couple that make it easier.”

Blurry put a hand on Pocket’s shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

“But for how long?”

“S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W couldn’t find Camp Youngblood if someone gave them turn by directions.”

Alien looked at Blurry. _The Moon._ They had almost forgotten. “Does _he_ know where this place is?”

Blurry sighed. “I don’t know why he hasn’t told them. Maybe no one knows who he was before.”

“Am I allowed to ask what you two are talking about?”

Space Cadet, who had been sitting quietly, watching, jumped to his feet. “I’ll be right back." He raced up the stairs.

He came back holding a picture frame from Benzedrine’s office. He held it out to Pocket.

“That’s Urie, Smith, and…” She dropped it in surprise. “Fuck.”

“You know him.”

“Oh yeah. I know George Ryan Ross. Unless you’re talking about the last guy?”

“No. He died.”

“Is he the Hurricane or did he switch sides? The Hurricane is in S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W.”

“The Hurricane took a picture of him,” Alien said. “I don’t think they’re the same person.”

“What the fuck?” Her voice sounded soft again.

“That was my first thought.” Pocket looked like she finally needed a hug. Alien got off the table and walked over to her. They hugged her briefly and then stepped back.

Pocket tented her hands over her nose and mouth and looked at the ceiling, then at the boys. “If your God is real, He has a very twisted sense of humour.”


End file.
